Journal: 09/07/06—09/20/06

Five months on from Joann’s death, there is not much else for me to say about it. I’ve been through all the whining, moaning, gnashing of teeth and other anxieties several times now and I think it is time to turn my attentions to where they belong—namely, myself. Joann is gone and I have accepted that (albeit, with much drama), there is nothing I can do about it and no amount of pining away is going to bring her back or make me feel any better about my loss. Furthermore, I feel like I’m beginning to break one of my promises to her: to take care of myself.

My general depression seems to be lifting somewhat, maybe a result of the new medications I take for physical pain, or the distance in time from Joann’s death. Whichever, I’ve started feeling better in the last two weeks than I have in several months. The fog and lassitude seems to be drifting away. Finally, I am interested in things again. Not as well focused as I normally am, but certainly more so than anytime in the last five months. At least I can string thoughts together again instead of their randomly popping in and out of my brain with no apparent pattern.

Its not that Joann is any less a part of my life—her memory and spirit will always be with me in significant ways—but that I have started to heal the emptiness of her being gone. This healing wasn’t something I did consciously; it was a natural process of my psyche repairing itself, asserting its will to survive undamaged. Suddenly, the fog started to clear and I’ve begun to look at things around me with new eyes. Like the changes of the seasons, they always sneak up on me. One moment its summer, the next its autumn, and somehow I missed the change in between.

As my psyche heals, so my spirit emerges from hibernation. I have started to feel life again. I get up in the morning refreshed and ready for the day, harboring anticipations instead of expectations of drudgery. I am in control again, or at least I’m regaining control by degrees. Any control is better than no control and being able to choose my own direction, no matter the degree, is liberating. Sure, it is an ongoing process that will take months, or even years, to complete (if it is ever fully done), but I can already tell that in the end, I will survive this. Maybe in a different form and as a slightly different person, but any changes in the fundamental "me" are for the better and represent gifts from Joann that I can treasure.

Today, I am doing the thing that three months ago I would have denied I could ever do: I’m moving on. At one time I thought that getting on with my life would be tantamount to forsaking Joann’s memory and was something I was loathe to do. I have since learned otherwise, that keeping Joann’s memory should be a comfort and support as I explore new projects, a warm cloak to don when I get lonely, a friend to talk to (yes, I still do that upon occasion) when I’m lost and searching for direction. Her memory shouldn’t be a millstone or boat-anchor in my life. She wouldn’t have wanted it that way, nor could I survive under that weight.

With all this in mind, I pause for a couple of posts to consider the events of the "Dark Days," those three months of depression from June to September. It was during that time when my life changed irrevocably, going from the secure and comfortable routine of my life with Joann to the rapid, downhill slide into relative poverty and deep depression. It could have been worse, I wasn’t homeless or without food and clothing, but I was penniless within the life-framework I established with Joann. Things seem to be changing now, I am still in economic turmoil but I’m looking at life with a different eye.

The next two posts will cover that period from June to September. The links for the posts are below. Check back to see when they are clickable, otherwise they will appear as normal posts.

The Dark Days: Part 1

The Dark Days: Part 2