For Thor - 69 - Stumble & Fall

Trying to keep my head above water feels like a full-time gig. As if dealing with the constant disbelief and grief of losing you isn't enough, I am now unemployed. Shit happens, they say. The money runs out, and things move on; the company pivots and leaves some of us behind to figure it out on our own. I am grateful for the time, space, afforded me to catch my breath. But it's too short; the world spins with a sickening lurch. It's too quick, and there is no warning, no sign; End of the Road Ahead. There is no solid ground under my feet as I frantically seek traction, like Wile E Coyote when he realizes he's off the edge of the cliff. I have to keep up, catch up, man up, pony up, get up…get up off the fucking ground where I fell when they told me you died and where I've been mentally for all these months…and walk ahead.

How am I supposed to do this? I still feel broken. Damaged. Not whole. I've made progress; it's true. I'd say was at 50% of the functionality, rationality, execution, decisiveness and the flat-out badassery that I had before Dec 31. But now I face a steep re-entry curve that looms over me. I read adverts for positions, jobs that I once would have eaten for lunch, and I feel threatened by the language in those descriptions. The list of must haves is intimidating and shines a harsh light on the jagged edges of the hole in my heart, my absence from the workforce this past year, the rusty skills and troubled mind…I feel unfit…and scared. The world is hard, and I am too soft.

Grief has tumbled me in the waves until I am smooth and edgeless. I lack the sharp elbows and pointy thinking that the world values so much. Wanted: Go-getters with can-do attitudes. Wanted: Sharp, professional, high-energy, high-performance Olympians with no emotional strife. Wanted: Someone who's mind is analytical, clinical, architectural, logical - not reeling and blown-away by the loss of her son. Good lord. What am I good for now? Being a grandma? Canning pickles? Raising sheep?

The urgency of finding a job has me scurrying in a rapid succession of "doings." And as that pace picks up, I am more and more despondent. I could hardly get out of bed this morning to face another day of "doing" something, but I'm not sure what and I'm not sure why and I'm not sure if it’s the right move for my family and me. I am not supposed to be "doing" like that. I've learned that in the past ten months. But if not that, then what? What? What the hell am I supposed to be doing? The bedcovers can't protect me from the harshness of the dialogue in my mind.

The energy is ALWAYS behind the thing that's right. Waiting for it to reveal itself is the hard part. Not filling the moments with frantic activity is impossible as the old paradigm of my chronic "do-ership" takes over. My heart is screaming at me to STOP!!!! I can hear you, Thor, telling me to STOP!!! And I do, for a nanosecond. Just long enough to realize that I'm freaking the fuck out and that won't help anyone. But then it starts all over, again, spinning up to drown out the sense of peace and connection I've worked so hard to reclaim over the past ten months.

I don't know the answer. I just know that the universe has decided to push me off the edge one more time. The journey toward the new me is not complete, so there is no point in resting here. I would start homesteading if I had found a single place where I could settle in and look around. Cue Universe: "Not so fast there, Cassandra!" a voice says as a bony finger reaches out to fling her into the unknown. I feel like a refugee in my own life some days; that's just sad, and I hate it. Or maybe it's inevitable for a seeker to be ever on the move, never settling down, always evolving, growing, learning. But what does that look like in practical, bill paying, grocery buying terms? I have no flipping clue.

All of this upheaval, as stressful as it is, is merely an echo of the explosion I realized when you died. I thought I might be stronger than this…and that may be true, but I don't feel strong. I don't feel good at all. Paper mache is more durable than how I feel today. I bullshit my way through, donning a mask over the swirling, sucking whirlpool of grief, and now uncertainty, that spins in my heart. Gut wrenching agony still grips me in the middle of the night when the memory of your death comes calling. All of this and I'm supposed to go forth and reinvent myself? Holy shit. "How?", I ask. What more can I give?

The worst part of all of this is that when the cacophony blares in my mind, I feel disconnected from you. And that breaks my heart all over again. I've tried so hard to face this head on, to feel everything, to learn how to live and breathe again. I feel more adrift than ever now. I've stumbled and fallen, hard, Thor. I need a hand up. But more than that, to have the way forward revealed would be great. I feel like I'm wandering around in a desert with no map and no destination.

A deep despondence blows in with the cold wind of early Fall; it is insidious and toxic. I know this, and I'll need to untangle myself from its tentacles if I am to survive. Grief and despondence team up in horrible ways; they make me feel that nothing is important, that nothing matters, that the struggles of life are inane and pointless. Yeah, I'm pretty fucking low right now, Bubby.

Glimmers of Faith and Grace do shine through, at times, like stars peeking out on a cloudy night. I know they are there and I can feel them working for and through me. But it's like I'm a patient in surgery, anesthetized and unresponsive, while they perform their transformation and healing. All I can do right now is keep showing up, with that empty cup. I check my mind for the wrong and hurtful thoughts, try to replace them with something positive. I sit in meditation, as futile as that is lately with the runaway team of horses in charge of my mind, for a few moments and say Our Family Blessing. I write to you, here. All the while I feel like I'm riding a tiny skiff down a raging river. I can hear you saying, "Hang on!" and "Have Faith!" The river must go somewhere, right? I just hope I don't drown before I find out where.

If you stumble make it part of the dance, right? Sigh... Here, I'll try...

I pray for bold, courageous daring to flood into my sails and for inspiration to set the rudder toward a shining star. That's all I got for now. It'll have to do.

I love you,
Mom