I think that the fact that I kept writing when Andrew died, kept me alive.
Even in the blackest of moments, when everything inside me felt as though it had been hacked and butchered, I would write, even if I only wrote: “I can’t write today.”
Breathing, swallowing, going to bathroom, keeping my eyes open, all the basic vital functions were overwhelming.
Even though I couldn’t eat or drink for days on end, I kept telling myself that as long as I could string two words together, I could stay alive, for my children, for my husband. In two months I lost 40 pounds,(I suppose there have to be some benefits to remaining alive through the fires of hell ;), but I have since put it back again, and more)
Like a harness though, writing kept me connected to life, it kept me from giving in to my desire to never wake up again. Writing and knowing that I would find a way to turn Andrew’s death into life, for others.
And gradually the activism and advocacy took shape, a path became visible. First one step then another, albeit with the occasional relapse, but I made it all the way to the “Get Your Wellness On” Fair in September.
But now the first anniversary of Andrew’s death is fast approaching and I feel exhausted.
I mean, I am already planning next year’s fair as well as the new “Community Love” project, raising money to sponsor two athletes to compete at the 2012 London Olympics, and starting a new blog “Get Your Wellness On.”
But I find that I am a bit slow. Take yesterday for instance, having literally spent three days sleeping, yesterday morning I got up intending to: go to Apple Farm to buy vegetables, then on to Michael’s to get a special “thingy” to hung the picture of Andrew that I’ve had made into a poster for the Fair. Once back from shopping I intended making a chicken soup from scratch for Hugh who now has the bug I had before the fair, and then go for a walk with Elizabeth.
This is how the day went instead: I did get up, showered and got dressed, but then I messed around on the computer for a while. Then I spoke on the phone for half an hour with a special friend from Sicily. Then I heated up some chicken noodle soup from a box (at least it was organic). By then I was exhausted.
I called Elizabeth “Do you want to go for a walk?” I asked her.
“Yes, it’s a nice day.”
“I am so tired though, I think I am going to have a little lie down first.”
“Yes, yes, go and have your rest. Call me when you wake up and we go for a walk.”
Yippee, I thought, she didn’t drag me out of the house to go traipsing around the pond. On the other hand I was disappointed because I knew that once I got out of the house and got to the pond with Elizabeth, I would have been fine. We would have talked all the time and before we knew it, we would have walked a couple of miles.
But the afternoon sleep was so nice.
I was already in bed last night when the phone rang, it was Elizabeth.
“You knew that if I went to sleep I would sleep for hours and we wouldn’t go for a walk,” I accused her.
She laughed, “You need the rest, don’t fight it. You wouldn’t be sleeping if you didn’t need it, it is all part of healing. And to be honest with you,” she continued. “I needed a rest myself.”
“Are you teaching tomorrow?” I asked her.
“As a matter of fact I am not.”
“Do you want to go to yoga with me in the morning?”
“The gentle, meditative kind.”
“Yes I’ll come. I haven’t been for a while and I am out of shape.”
“You and me both. I fell off the yoga wagon a while ago and now I really need to stop talking about it and get back on. I want to get fit again.”
And so my friends, I am going to leave you know, grab my yoga mat and go.
Perhaps you can join me and roll out your yoga mat wherever you are.
Have a great day,