Change: Like the Sky, Like the Leaves, Like a Butterfly

The truth is, I’m not who I used to be. Mark Doty wrote,

“The Lakota Sioux say that when nature gives one a burden, one’s also given a gift. Loss brought with it a species of vision, an inwardness which was the gift of a terrible time—nearly unbearable, but bracingly real. I felt I was breathing some strange new air, the dizzy-making oxygen of an unfamiliar altitude.”

I have yet to be able to identify anything I’ve received from the universe in this most bizarre of seasons that I’ve been able to categorize as a gift. Perhaps I worry that if I accept any post-traumatic growth, I’m rationalizing that Kellie’s death is acceptable to me? I am deeply committed to not seeing good things in my life as balancing out the bad reality of her being gone. Both types of thing can happen, and one does not excuse or pay sufficiently for the other. Just as I can have good days and bad ones, but I am also committed to not seeing the one as payment or trade-off for the other. I cannot allow that idea to take root in my mind, because I do not want to live the rest of my life in that seesaw, paying for each good moment via my imagined need for an allotment of misery. I refuse to believe that the world works that way.

Something which has changed in me that I have now embraced is this dumb early-waking habit I’ve fallen into. I’m finally willing to admit to you all that I am not getting woken by Coco anymore, most days. I’m more likely to wake her up now. After almost five decades, I am suddenly a morning person. I resisted that for six weeks or so, but now—I’m into it. I can now wake up before 7 almost every day. I don’t need to set any alarms anymore, whatsoever, and just wake up when my body is ready for it to happen. I really kind of love having literal hours to think about stuff and play video games and read and write in my journal before most people’s day even starts. It’s pretty much the best, and I hope this never reverts back to my previous norm.

Something which has changed in me that is less-positive is my relatively-low energy levels. I’ve always been able to make it through all kinds of things, even if my deep introversion ends up costing me after the fact. But I now get exhausted after just a little bit of social interaction, and that’s pretty common for widow/ers to experience. My theory on this is that so much of our lives are different, and that there’s always despair and a deep, deep well of sadness waiting around every corner. That means it takes so much more strength to just go through my day, quasi-normally. These days, I think I’m operating at about 25% of my normal energy level. When I get tired, I get TIRED. And today, I was TIRED.

Margot and her incredible kids spent yesterday evening and this morning with me. We went to the county’s 250th celebration so that we could grab (a very very good) dinner from the food trucks. I then came back home to be with the dogs and recharge a bit while they stuck around for the (from what I hear, also very very good) fireworks display. Margot and I got to stay up late chatting, and then we played a weird board game and ate breakfast and played with the dogs until they headed out in late morning. It was the perfect time for them to visit—my parents have been gone for a week and a half or so, and having someone else in the house was beyond nice. But beyond that, all three of them are just lovely human beings, and it was the nicest thing to get to spend more time with them.

That also meant, of course, that by the time they moved to their next destination my energy was completely spent. I took the rest of the day off, just resting and recharging and eating and napping. It was the best way I can think of to spend my day, and by the time I’m writing this on Sunday evening I’m back to feeling like myself again.

Change is the only constant in our lives, right? Loss or no loss, we are all changing all the time. Maybe the only thing we can do is observe, be curious, be honest with ourselves and those around us, and embrace the good and bad things that come our way as the earth turns and sinkholes open beneath our feet more often than we’d like.

I’m still struggling with my lack of control, but I am also now noticing my ability to float with the current, sometimes. It’s not all dog-paddling and struggling to keep my nose above the water. That’s a change too. I’m not in survival mode anymore, usually.

And I’m grateful for that. My birthday week (and anniversary week) has arrived. I’m as ready for them both as I’m gonna be. I’m trying to angle my feet downstream and stop fighting the river, like they tell you before letting you go whitewater rafting. Otherwise you break an ankle, and I don’t have many of those to spare.

Rest well, friends.

Matt