It's 7:45AM on Thursday and I'm in my nightgown and bare feet, the shower already running to give the water a chance to heat up. The Raveonettes are playing on WOXY and it's just beginning to get light out. And cold I imagine.
Yesterday on NPR they said that if you're planning to do anything at all outside this weekend do it tonight instead. I'm assuming that's because it's going to be too cold to even step foot outside the door this weekend.
I haven't had enough sleep. I meant to catch up last night but I didn't get home until close to ten and, after a day of bereavement groups, I couldn't turn my mind off very easily. I took a long bath before going to bed and could feel my whole body just melt into the flannel sheets on my bed...but still my mind wouldn't be quiet.
The phrase high capacity living keeps coming to mind. I know that I'll acclimate soon...this time right now is so reminiscent of when I first began seeing clients as a psychotherapist...but I hope it happens sooner than later. It's hard to live at this level, hold this extreme awareness of life all the time.
I just took a break from this to shower and now I'm back and it's lighter out and I'm totally wearing a sweater set. A Banana Republic sweater set. Greg's mom gave it to me for Christmas. She gave me two of them, actually. Along with an incredible amount of other amazingly thoughtful gifts. But I've never worn a sweater set. I'm not sure if I'm a sweater set kind of girl.
But just now I decided that maybe today it's time for the sweater set. And I'm totally wearing it. It's lavender with a white lace trim on the undershirt. Yup. I'm wearing it with my brown cords. And it's not bad actually. I'm not sure if it's me but it sure screams bereavement counselor for hospice. It's soothing and pretty and understated. And I don't know why am I still writing about it.
Anyway, lately, because of this job, I can't stop thinking about my mortality. Which leads to so many other thoughts. It makes me think about how I'm taking care of myself, how I'm tending to and caring for my body. It makes me think about what kind of goals I have in life. It makes me think about what my purpose is here for this time I'm allotted. It causes me anxiety and it also makes me value each moment so much more.
I think a lot about Greg and how much I want a life with him. How much I want all these things I didn't think I ever wanted with anyone--the basics of a home and a marriage and children--these things that seem so simple and underwhelming but when considered with someone with whom you are truly in love they suddenly become the greatest gifts you could ever imagine.
Last year this time all I wanted from my life was to write books and one day sleep under the stars in Africa. And I still want those things. Very much. But I also want sustenance and the deep understanding of another person. I want to span time with this man that I love and I want to create a family with him. I want to be a mother and a grandmother and I want to live a full, long life.
And I think that for a long time I didn't let myself want any of these things. After losing my own family I'm not sure it seemed possible to let myself imagine having another one. It was much easier to imagine a more solitary life...less to lose, I suppose.
But now I want those things and some days they seem truly attainable and just that very idea takes my breath away.
Yesterday at the start of an afternoon bereavement group an elderly woman walked into the meeting room and immediately began to cry. At these groups people so often begin crying when they walk in the door, that sudden release of being in a safe emotional place completely overwhelming. I hung back for a moment watching one of the other counselors with her. I could hear her whispered words about her dead husband.
And I couldn't help but think about how that could be me one day. And I how I don't know if I will be able to survive it. And I also couldn't help but be struck by how much we, as humans, love each other. We love each other so much.
You can really see it in these situations. We all go about our days worrying about bills and planning our next vacation, bitching about so and so at work and pinching the fat around our thighs but suddenly someone gets sick or dies and all of those petty worries that seem so huge throughout the week are the first to fall to the side.
When it comes down to it, life is about love and those we can share it with. And I know that no matter how scary it is to love someone this much again, I could never stop myself from doing so. This is what life is about.
