At times I manage my issues poorly. At times I manage magnificently. It is hit and miss sometimes with which method will work, how to navigate. I do okay. I could do better.
Because there is always, always, something…. often multiple things – I do not always know what is going on, what within me has been triggered and how to manage.
I’ve felt a bit of melancholy over the past few days. I did all of the usual things I do to get over that hump. No go. I then considered that I might be dropping. I am, some. This isn’t drop though.
It hit me a few hours ago when I called my chapter leader what the thing was. Sadly there is nothing I can do about it at the moment.
I called her to schedule a time to meet up to do my May contribution . It is normally something I do at the beginning of the month but the beginning of this month was pretty fucked for me.
It improved but it started out ugly.
As I spoke to her my brain went back to a year ago. Remembering what was happening in my life last May and realizing that the mourning period is not yet over.
I would like it to be over, but it is not.
Within a week of my May contribution last year, the man and I were done. The truth is we were done much longer, but I am a stubborn bitch. I’ve been known to hold on longer than I should. Failure is disgusting to me. I feel I’ve failed quite a lot over the years and given chance number four to get ‘us’ right, I was going to hold on until the grave.
Turns out though that the universe has a different plan. She often does.
I struggled with what led up to last May with all that I had. If you know me, you know that it was a lot. That year 2012-2013 wiped me out emotionally, physically, intellectually. I was a paper bag in the wind before I let go.
Living through that is something I would not wish on anyone. I certainly did not want to live through it myself. I did though.
I came through it. On the other side I am better – stronger – healthier. My current life is filled with love in ways I would not have expected 12 months ago.
Yet, the sadness still crept in my love unable to keep it out.
At a different point in time it would lead to a desperate attempt to reach him. That desperation in my voice was always difficult for him to resist. Yet, on more than one occasion he did, which helps me not pick up the phone or send the text, or email.
If I picked up nothing over the years, I did pick up his resolve. I choose this time to use it to keep the door shut instead of trying to drag him in through it.
The sadness won’t last. It never does. This time next year I might not even be writing a sequel to this. That is my hope at least.