Friday, October 31, 2014

31 Days to Write True: In the Garden of a Thousand Sighs


A day behind, but I've almost written all thirty one of these posts. Tonight I thought I'd talk about September. I titled this draft and started it before our trip home but each night I'd sit down to write and I just wouldn't feel up to this one.

September was hard. Hard. HARD.

The whole month just felt very suffocating to me. It was by far the most unhappy I've been since we've lived here. In fact, with a couple of exceptions, it was the most unhappy I've been in years.

It's hard to describe the feeling exactly. It wasn't the most intense sadness I've felt, but it was pretty encompassing and it felt like it was taking forever to pass. Usually when I struggle with BIG EMOTIONS the grief or fear or anxiety or whatever passes after a few days, or at least the intense part does. This seemed so prolonged.

As I said, it wasn't intense. I sobbed my eyes out a few days, but not every day. I mostly just felt uncharacteristically tired; not motivated to do anything, even things I love like writing and teaching Annie; and like a heaviness was surrounding me. Those things did lead to anxiety, though, because I know a bit about mental health and I know those things can all be symptoms of depression.

One day, I did break hard. I just cried and cried to Peyton. And I got scared. I wanted some time by myself, but I really didn't want to be alone with my thoughts. He said he wasn't going to leave me alone and I asked him if he was scared to. He said he wasn't and that made me feel better. We ended up going to something that evening and I felt better once I got around friends.

In the days that followed, I asked Peyton who I was. Why I was hurting so much. What the Hell was even wrong with me. I told him over and over that I was hurting and couldn't figure out why. I searched for the meaning in it all. Shit got existential, y'all.

I think I was partly just really, really lonely. In a city full of eight million people, I was so incredibly lonely. I haven't felt that way much here, really. We've found amazing friends and I've been so supported and encouraged. I had no idea what it was.

And I still can't put my finger on it, but I think I know a lot of the reason on this side of the hurt.

I think I was agonizing over the many decisions we've finally made (or are close to making). I'm a planner and it's hard for me when things don't go as I planned, but it's almost more unbearable to not have a plan. Having so much up in the air about our future- when to move home, when to start our next adventure, when to add another child (and how we'd add our next child), what schooling would look like for our children, and a few other smaller things were all weighing heavy on me.

In of my favorite songs, The Rising, which I happen to always listen to a little bit extra in September each year due to it being written about 9/11, Bruce sings about this garden of a thousand sighs. That's exactly what the month felt like. It wasn't full of shed tears, but they were right under the surface the whole time. I couldn't keep those heavy sighs in, though. Living just seemed to take so much effort.

But here am on the other side of the garden. I feel like I can breath again. Without effort.

Living feels good and easy again. I'm looking forward to moving home, but also to all that's in store for us here for the next six months.

And I'm just happy to have made my way through that difficult, thorny garden that overwhelmed me so.

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