I could not for the life of me figure out how to express ... to myself ... how I was feeling in all of that time. But I knew that I wasn't me being myself during this period, if you can see what I mean. I have read voraciously ever since I was a child and learned to read. I have been writing ever since I learned how to write and about rhyming words. I began keeping the things I wrote when I was fifteen years old. Except for the time when I had children and didn't have time to eat or sleep let alone write anything, even then I managed a few poems each year. I have always written poems and I have especially, "always" been a reader. So what happened? What was the problem?
Before you say it, I knew it was grief, but I couldn't understand the lack of interest in reading, writing, or interacting with my children and yet desperately wanting to want to do all three of these things. Instead I flitted from one thing to another like a hummingbird choosing which flower to seek nectar from. I knew there was a way to define what was going on. I, a writer, just couldn't figure out how to define it in words myself, let alone to anyone else.
Well, during the week of 9/11 this year, I was watching the programs they have on, as I always do, and low and behold, one of the firemen who had survived the Twin Tower attacks explained it in one simple sentence. He said, "After we finally got to go home, I would go home and do anything I could do so I didn't have to think."
Slowly over time, just before the OWFI Conference, my mind began to clear. I began to write in my journal first. Then thoughts for the poetry books I am working on began to pop up in my head and I would jot those down. Then a thought here and a thought there to add to the novel I am working on began drifting through my mind and I would write those down. I finally realized I was writing again. The champagne bubbles were running through my veins again. The excitement and joy of creating was mine again. I was returning to life.
I have begun to read again. I have stopped playing games on my computer (as often) and have begun to do more than function, I have begun to live again. To feel alive. To dream again. To hope again. God carried me through the storm. Now He is leading me into my future. It still isn’t like it was before. I am sure it never will like it was before again. I deal with fears and concerns about what I will do to earn a living. How I will cope with those emergencies that pop up when I had Bob here to keep me grounded. How I will survive without him there to support and help me. I do know God is in control and whatever happens He will lead me through the day to day life and comfort me during those times when I miss Robert the most. It is a difficult road, as many people are aware, but my journey through life has resumed and my heart sings again and my minds joyfully dances with creating and fluttering from one project to the next.