I want to write, but tonight the words refuse to cooperate. Not the way I want them to, at least. they all sound repetitive, a melancholy refrain that drips of self-pity, of loss, of disillusionment. People are tired of hearing it. I am just as tired of feeling it.
Denying that the feelings exist is pointless. They are just below the surface of my every waking minute. I pour cereal into a bowl and think of grocery lists, of the things we need or the next few days and the things I won’t bother to replace. I work hard to stay detached, business-like, because if I don’t, I lose my focus and become immobilized.
Each item I pack carries a memory. I find letters from my boys when they were little, a note my mother wrote to me on my honeymoon. I find loose pictures I’d thought lost, and I study each as if they’re a masterpiece: the expressions on faces, what people wore, remember what they said that day, what we laughed at. And immediately, I wonder if our quota of “fun” has already been met. Maybe those were the “good old days” and now, our happiness ration is depleted.
There is such a sense of detachment when you go through a serious financial downturn like this. People you thought were your friends drift off. They suffer survivor guilt and often would sooner stay away and hope things get better for you, than come around and deal with your feelings.
That isolation has been horrible. We think of moving now and know we need to be closer to people, people who won’t know our history and won’t feel sorry for us, people who will accept or reject us on the basis of who we are today, not who we were twenty years ago, and certainly not as the ones who “lost so much.”
We do not want pity. We only want a chance to show what we can do, and prove we’re still worthwhile employees, friends, citizens.
I’ve said more than I intended. My angst overflowed. Bu wow, this is a difficult time, and I find myself staying up late in a silly attempt to delay another day. Our move is coming so fast, and God help me, I am worried over how I will handle it. I feel like I could melt into a puddle of pathetic need. I’ve met older women who are obsessed with things lost: their face, their figure, their fortune, and always, men. I aspired to be better than that – stronger, invinvicible, kind of the way you’d expect Mrs. Obama to handle a situation similar to ours. Could she maintain her dignity or would she turn into a big sweaty lump of blubbering sadness? I know it’s what I sometimes feel like doing, but it’s not what I want.
Sometimes, our resilience and personal strength can surprise even ourselves. Maybe I’ll be lucky and that will happen with me. Right now, I’m much closer to feeling down and out. Tomorrow will be better. Everything looks brighter in the sunshine.
This week will be bad enough. I don’t want the added upset of knowing I made everyone around me feeling ten times worse, simply because I couldn’t contain my own feelings.
So I go back to my initial comment. I need to find a way to turn off my mind, without resorting to a sleep-induced coma. There’s no way I could pack and clean if I couldn’t move. Mind you, a temporary coma does holds a certain appeal.
ROADBLOCKS, DETOURS and ROUNDABOUTS 
Linda,
Very powerful and I do not know what to say. Like standing on the edge of a precipice.
Love to you and Steve,
Margie
Hi Margie,
It’s definitely like standing on the edge of a precipice. We just have to remember to flap our wings.
Thank you so much for your kind thoughts.
“People you thought were your friends drift away. They suffer survivor guilt and often would sooner stay away and hope things get better for you, than come around and deal with your feelings.”
OMG, Linda, you too? This is exactly what has happened to us! With the exception of a few die-hard friends, the phones have been silent for weeks. Even my sister doesn’t call. They can’t deal with it. This is what it’ll be like with a grave illness … I can just feel it.
But you hit on something really important. “…people who won’t know our history and won’t feel sorry for us, people who will accept or reject us on the basis of who we are today…” and that’s what will be truly exciting. A fresh start, a clean slate. You’re both too young to throw in the towel. Your warmth will shine through and you’ll make new memories, You’ll just have to reach out to people and good things will happen. This is not defeat. It’s a new chapter.
Thank you Jo-Ann. It really is a new chapter, something we all deal with to some degree as we near retirement.
If we can embrace the possibilities, change isn’t nearly as daunting.
Your honesty is powerful. Stay strong xx
Thank you Christa. xo
I think your words cooperated beautifully Linda. I am finding the lovely little heart breaking things as i pack too. You are a very very strong and wonderful woman. You will get through this time, however hellish it is now. Things will be better because there are so many good things just around the corner , wonderful things that we can’t even imagine while we are in the eye of the hurricane.
I am sending prayers and affirmations. Once you are landed you will be able to take some nice long breaths, walk Cadeau and hear the sounds and smell the fragrances of King County which are very much like the ones you have been so used to. It’s all going to be okay. best wishes always, Jeannie
Jeannie, you are so kind. Thank you so much for cheering me up. I know you are facing a difficult move soon. I hope I can help you then as much as you’ve helped me.
sorry linda. I should have said, ‘midst’ of the hurricane not the eye….just remembering the eye is the calm part. j
Not to worry Jeannie. It went right over my head. LOL
Keep up your courage, Linda, and keep on writing! You have a gift at turning a phrase and sharing your insights. And it seems that you have more friends than you realize…cherish them all. Good luck to you and your family in your new home; I’m sure it will become as special as the one you’ve left behind.
Carla
Carla, I do have wonderful friends. I ama very lucky.
\Thank you so much for stopping in and offering words of encouragement. I appreciate it more than you can know.
My best to you,
Linda