Grieving wishes

The thing about grief is that it sneaks up on you when you think you've finished with it.  Sort of like dust on furniture.  You can dust thoroughly and carefully, not missing any areas.  You can stand back and admire your work and feel the accomplishment.  And, at that very moment, the accumulation of dust begins to gather again.  This is how I live with grief.  It is ever present for me.  Today, my grief is for myself, not even about my latest huge loss, my Monica.  I simply went to one low-key social setting, and back home today but, for some reason, I found myself wishing that realities were different.  I kept thinking, I wish I could drive.  I never would have taken that corner so quickly and my body wouldn't have pressed so hard against the door.  I wish I could be the one to decide when to pull out in front of another car, using and trusting my own judgment.  I wish I could leave the outing when I wanted to, not when my loved one fetched me.  I wish I didn't have these wishes, but I do.

I wish I could do a different kind of exercise.  I am left with only "safe" options because my body cannot be relied upon to remain strong through any one event.  I wish I had somebody who would try another exercise with me, to just see if I could do it, thereby removing any danger for me and being there if I should need help.  I wish I could sign up for trampoline fitness classes.  They are offered and available just a few miles from my house and it sounds like GREAT fun, but, again, I'm being discouraged by my husband because it could be something which sends me into flare.   (I'm going to still go one day this week and try it for a while.  I will never know how hard or soft the bouncing is unless I give it a go, so I'm going to.)  I wish I weren't so desperate to find a fun, a truly fun activity to do.  I wish I could do exercises which I really feel building my strength and endurance.

I wish I could tolerate being outside in the sunshine for even a half hour each day.  Or, for even 10 minutes.  I wish I could walk the dog without having to get up at 6 am to do that, because of heat intolerance.  I wish I could leave for a dog walk with complete confidence that I will be able to make it home on my legs.

I wish I did not wish for things I don't have.

I wish I had independence and I could go see any movie I wanted at the theater.  I wish I could decide to go get a haircut and then DO that.  I wish I could FEEL progress in my life.  Any progress.  I wish I had enough financial input in my household to warrant my giving more generously to others.  I wish I could take handmade crocheted items I make to the people I make them for, and not have to put them through the mail or rely on someone else to ferry them there for me.  I wish I could see the expression on even one face of someone enjoying what I crafted.

I wish I could dust all these wishes away and feel just gratified with what I have, but, somehow, my season has turned again and I'm back at wishing.  I really, really wish I didn't feel this way this evening.

At this point, my therapist would say, "How does it feel to wish for so much and not have it, to wish for perfectly logical and realistic things and  have no expectation of getting them?  What is that like?"  Here is my answer.  "It feels ever so sad."  Also, "It feels heart-wrenching" is accurate.  Further, "It feels like I can't smile and like I can't think straight because of the grief."

I suppose right now, I am dealing with a deep loss at my core, my dear sister, the deepest loss I've ever suffered behind the loss of my own health and my personal identity.  And to have just the dust of my daily life settling on that void is really throwing me for a loop today.  I can't find a balance.  I have, unfortunately, found a hole.  I'm not in it yet, and I hope not to go down it, but, I do see it and I also feel its pull on me.  I wish that so, so, so much were different about how I am spending my precious time here in this world, in this body.  I really do.  And it makes me sad.  To not be sad about it would be dishonest, I think.  It would be denial, and untrue.

I wish I could feel and function normally again.  I'm even now through tears, thinking of what I could possibly offer to God as my bargaining chip.  Of course, I have no chips to play my hand with.  After all, He dealt my hand to me so, he knows I am holding a pair of deuces.  

Maybe I will be able to dust it all fairly swiftly, but more importantly, thoroughly, and move on through in a timely fashion.  Hopefully, I will not get any closer to the deep, black hole, for that is truly TERRIFYING, in case you didn't know.  I wish I didn't.

Because I've made it a point to end my entries on notes of gratitude, I am grateful that I have this venue to record my sadness, my wishes.  Now they are on a screen in front of me and I feel justified in feeling this sad.  So, now I will go to bed and I will have faith that He will bring me to tomorrow with renewed vision.