As a thinker, I feel inclined to write frequently. I read other works and find myself yearning for the ability to write something that will one day be quoted or inspire someone else. Arrogance leads me to believe I have the capacity to do that. I suppose when I read back on some of my own words I inspire myself. Occasionally I’ll find what I’ve written to be a source of reassurance that things get better. Or even on the even rarer occasion, I’ll find a new perspective.
Each year, I sit down at my computer and review the events of the months past. I’ll dig into my emotional vault and rehash the epiphanies or pivotal moments and document what I’ve learned. This year I find myself not only gaining a sense of calm but a little maturity as well. I believe this past year might have been the year I’ve grown the most. I’m not sure exactly how I’ve obtained this insight, but nevertheless, I find that writing this right now I feel more grounded than I’ve ever felt.
This was the year I learned the truest meaning of patience. No matter how many times I feel as though I’ve reached the limits of my endurance, I always find several more yards of rope dangling beneath my feet.
Closure seems to be this metaphorical state of peace. All the cliches that surround the grieving process have manifested themselves this year. I’ve come to understand the meaning of closure. Closure doesn’t necessarily mean you’re over it. I guess it just means you’ve accepted the reality to the fullest of your personal comprehension.
I’ve been told so many times that I’m a strong person. The past three and a half years have been increasingly annoying with that classification. There have been many weeks over the year 2011 that I have felt nothing close to strong. When I’ve had the hours of deep anxiety and sadness it’s damn near impossible to feel strong.
For whatever reason I’ve gotten it in my mind that succumbing to emotional break down was weak. Words from a counselor resonate in my mind. Why do I feel like I need to fall to the floor in waves of tears in order to feel progress in my grief? I suppose the philosophy I’ve created for myself is that you can’t build on top of rubble. I’ve had the notion that I’ve needed to demolish the foundation and pour anew.
This year I’ve learned that what I’ve needed is to simply remodel. Building around the grief creates character. After all, don’t my experiences make me who I am? Why try to erase those nuances that directly contribute to the strength of my concrete? If I eliminate the strengthening compounds, the foundation eventually cracks and I’ll end up right back where I started.
In a way I’m compromising. I’ve come to terms with the things I cannot change. I’m still learning to accept those things. But I believe that is exactly what makes life, life. I’m compromising my stubbornness in order to pave the way to acceptance.
I would be a buffoon to think I could sweep my pains under a rug and just move on. There will always be this lump in the rug. How do you ignore that? So, I’m looking at an urn on my dresser as a piece of insignia or as a medal of honor. It will never, ever stop being painful to see. A piece of me is in that urn. But without that urn I wouldn’t have this new perspective. Growth. Maturity. Gain.
I made a promise to myself this year that I would tell my story. For whatever reason I have this compulsion to be heard. Whether it’s read by no one other than my own family members, I just want to have my experience felt in some way by another. Without knowing this story about me, you can’t fully know me.
Learning that this year has helped me get to a far better place. I now understand I will never fully stop grieving the loss of my son. I now understand that it’s ok. I put far too much pressure on myself to get to this movie like euphoria about it. I thought there would be this grand score of music playing the moment I reached true acceptance. If that was truly the way grief worked, it wouldn’t be painted so ominously. Truth of the matter is, there’s absolutely nothing beautiful about grief. It’s gory and ugly. I suppose from all the debris and carnage the beauty is in the outcome.
I learned this year what marriage really is. I learned the value in true partnership and the necessity of that partnership in order to experience marital glory. For years and years I’ve allowed myself to believe marriage can be easy if both parties wanted the same thing. Even with similar goals in mind, the constant personal evolution spouses go through individually, tests those goals. Goals change. People change. The glory is in the compromises each make in order to stay on the same page. So many people say marriage is the hardest thing. I will never criticize the validity of that statement. In 19 days my husband and I will have been married for 14 years. There hans’t been a single year yet one of us didn’t feel exasperated with each other. All 14 years have been uphill. Sometimes at a 45 degree angle.
Is love enough to keep a marriage strong? I’ve learned how much love contributes to the strength. But I’ve learned that no it’s not enough. Defining love has been attempted by everyone. Either on paper displayed for the world to interpret or in one’s own thoughts. I’ve learned you can’t really define love. I think that’s why so many other words can be listed to similarly describe it.
I’m 31 years old. I believe I’ll go to my grave never fully understanding love. But, if I can leave my personal wisdom behind to contribute to defining a strong marriage, it’s only a few words.
Patience
Compromise
Respect
Faith
Apply those words however you see fit. But if both a man and a woman can apply the fullest meanings of those words to their union, they’ll survive it all. Being able to execute those words is so much harder than you’d think. I’ve learned that when those things are combined with love, whatever love means, you’ve got yourself a perfect marriage.
I’ve learned the value of time. This year has gone by so dramatically fast it is literally spinning my head. Thinking about it actually makes me dizzy. We started off this year with a flood in our house and walls being ripped away. Our son turned 1. Our daughter turned 13. My siblings stayed with me for 6 weeks. I took my son to Florida for 2 weeks. Our daughter got into the most trouble to date. I spent a very full 48 hours in San Diego with my amazing brother and his equally incredible wife. My health reached new lows. I’ve finally gotten to where I’m ready to quit smoking. I’ve stayed home for an entire tax year and not worked. This year has been very full. But all those things I just listed feel like they happened weeks ago.
Life is short. Cliche, I know. But this year has confirmed it. I’m going to pack my little lessons learned and move into the year 2012 a feeling more equipped. I hope and pray feeling this sense of self doesn’t invite challenge. But then again, who do you know that has gone through life without significant trial? We all want it easier, but seriously, how boring would that be?
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