People ask me how I’m doing and I don’t know what to say. How am I doing? It’s a loaded question because it assumes that I have a scale of what normal is that I could base my response on. But, I don’t remember what normal feels like anymore.
How am I in relation to being terrified that the next step in my journey is going to be infinitely worse than the one before? Good, really good! The worst is over. I am grateful and humble every day that I will walk away from this battle. Do I have battle scars? Yes. But I’m still walking away and that is the greatest gift ever.
How am I in relation to who I was? Different, really different and that takes some getting used to. Have you ever dropped a cup or a dish on a tile floor and watched it shatter? The last year of my life has been the slow motion decent toward the inevitable crash. I try not to be quiet from too long because the moment of impact replays over and over in my mind. I relive the sound and fear of the shatter and watch the pieces skid across the floor. One day, I’ll probably put it to music and make peace with it, but I am not there yet. Healing comes in stages, and I’m not ready to dance with the crash, not yet.
For now, I am focused on picking up the chunks. Thankfully, I have an incredible group of friends and family to help me search the floor, sweep up the mess, and find the scattered shards. For now, I am looking at my pile of broken parts and trying to figure out what I should do with it. I have a couple of options. I could try to glue it back together. I have enough of the chunks that I could probably make them into a cup again. Sure, it will always have cracks and scars and I don’t know how functional it would be. But at first glance, if you don’t look too closely, you might not notice.
But that really isn’t me. In all truth an honesty, there is no going back. I could try to put the pieces together but I’m not the type of person that can live a cracked and broken life. If I’ve learned nothing else I’ve learned that life is short and precious. I’ve learned to make every minute count because there are far less of them than anyone expects.
So, I am left with option number two, make a mosaic. When you can’t go backwards, go forwards. Take the pieces that remain and turn them into something new. Maybe how I’m doing isn’t nearly as important as what am I doing? I’m working on picking up the pieces of my life, taking stock of what is there and what is missing, considering my options and ultimately working on making something new.