Having Fun in the Tunnel

concrete tunnel
Photo by Xi Xi on Pexels.com

Boy, have I had the days lately.  Oh, last night was a fun night. I had a great time and felt some emotions I haven’t in a while – relaxed and silly.  Let me tell you, after a crappy, stressed-filled couple of days, recovering from a fairly brutal days this week, I needed a good time last night. I went out with friends to a Trivia Night and laughed, and teased, and felt okay, maybe close to good in my own skin.

Feeling anything – good, okay, comfortable – in my own skin is something I have struggled with since Peter died. My definition has changed and trying to find out who I am with half of me amputated so suddenly, has been a struggle. I have locked myself up at Discovery, trying to find comfort in my own company. I have spent hours in solitary activities like writing, reading, listening to music and watching TV, trying to drown the questions of who I am. After a time, I grow too restless, too bored with myself. Not because I don’t like to be alone, but because I also like people. I am as much of an extrovert as I am an introvert and both sides need to be fed in order for me to be nourished. I can’t seem to find that nourishing balance yet and when I do, maybe that’s when my answers to my own self-discovery will begin to come.

This past weekend was horrible. I was triggered into Grief by memories and signing on a line. They held me for longer than I thought and it overwhelmed me, distracted me, reminded me I am still not a whole person without him. I am blessed to have friends who got me, got it, although I suppose they wouldn’t be my friends if they didn’t…or at least I wouldn’t want to be their friends. But they are because they did and I adore them for their empathy and love. So while I acknowledged I needed to try, I needed to give my extroverted-self some room to grow, grief stunted it. In the process, I saw the friends who are waiting for me, continue to wait for me, and see who and what I become. And part of my definition is always the friends I keep.

Tuesday, I made a tough, tough decision. It was the first major one without Peter. My insecurities ate at me like a swarm of flies on a carcass. Questions flooded the pit of my stomach – Was this right? Can I do this? Should I do this? What do I do next?.  I texted friends, my kids and disturbed one of my besties at work because she, out of all my friends, is most like Peter and god, did I need her then. And god, did she come through for me, again.

I broke down in sobs and cries out to Peter on how I missed him and yells out to him for having left me and  anger toward God for taking him. Exhausted, I let go of my final tears of knowing none of my sobs, cries, yells or anger changes the fact here I am and here it is. Once I committed to the decision, it was okay. Sure, I still have my doubts. I’m baby stepping toward total confidence, yet I knew it was right for me and, as this nightmare of widowhood keeps showing me, nothing is ever permanent.

Then a much needed last night happened, with friends who have held me up and gave me love when I felt none. And I had fun. There was a comfort in their friendship which helped relax me enough to talk and laugh and kibitz and all the things life should hold for me, all I want it to hold for me. And while I am still confused, still have more itchy moments in my skin, still have intense moments of grief, seeing the relief in nights yesterday,  helps me hold onto the eventualities of things left to come. They are the light I see at the end of this long, dank tunnel Grief put me in. And I know, I can have fun while I am working my way toward it.