About Moxie Girl Musings

Moxie Girl Musings is about starting over from square one after tragedy impacted my young family. It's filled with stories of triumph, struggle, snafus, hopes, and dreams. Sometimes there will be features from other writers that I like and every so often I'll include an original short story, but normally I simply write what's on my mind at the time. Welcome to my unfiltered true-life story as I figure out this thing called life. http://www.amberleaeaston.com

Monday, March 28, 2011

Not all who wander are lost

Have you ever walked into a room and wondered why you were there?  It's like you wandered in with an intention that disappears into the fog of your brain in less than a second.  So you stand there looking around at all the possibilities in front of you:  did you want a soda, a pen, an apple, a book...what the hell did you want?

Well, that's how I feel about my life lately.  I wandered around for the past five years after my husband died, all intentions lost in the fog of my brain and find myself standing in my house wondering what the hell it was I wanted through all of this. 

Not all who wander are lost.  I love that saying.  Often the wandering is part of living, of adapting, of evolving.  I wandered through the the trauma of finding my husband's body after his suicide, wandered through the kids' grief counseling, wandered through getting my daughter over her subsequent anxiety attacks, wandered through my own dark grief where I battled loneliness and guilt, wandered back into my career after a lot of false starts and wandered into this moment where I feel more like a warrior than a widow.

People don't understand where I have been or why it has taken "so long" to "get over" Sean's death.  They can think whatever they want as long as they shut up about it.  Maybe they haven't experienced real love so can't relate to the void left by its departure.  Maybe they haven't had to guide two small children through a traumatic loss all alone.  Perhaps their lives have been untouched by true tragedy like witnessing the last breath of someone dearly loved.

And, no, writing about it doesn't mean I'm not over it.  On the contrary, it means I am finally in a place of strength so I can express all of this without crumbling into a heap onto the ground.  It took two years to be able to write again.  Two years.  Grief sucked my creativity dry.  I have spent the past few years getting it back and have only been able to write about the suicide and grief for the past year and a half.

Like a tulip bulb planted deep within the earth where it grows beneath the snow in the darkness only to burst into color come spring, I needed time to heal, to grow, to evolve.  I am thankful for the time.   

Yes, I took the scenic route and climbed over a lot of boulders to stand here today.  I look around at this house I have lived in for thirteen years and question why I am still here.  I am not sure it fits ME anymore, not with warrior me in residence.  I crave action, people, interaction, newness, LIFE. 

It's okay to wander.  Every day is a new beginning, a clean slate.  Every day is a chance for the fog to clear and to ask...what the hell was it I wanted?  And then go and get it.

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