I’ve been trying to write for several days now but have been blocked out of my own head. I’ll feel the urge to sit and write, then the words don’t flow. I’ve got a lot going on, but that’s not any different than it was a week or a month ago. It’s not timing, it’s not for lack of something to share, it’s just me. And to be perfectly honest, it frustrates the hell out of me.
This last week has been a trip of extreme lows and highs, almost whiplash like in its own way. Last Saturday morning I had the most terrifying thoughts screaming inside my own head, and they came out of nowhere. Absolutely debilitating in nature. I had never been so afraid of myself as I was last weekend. It was brief, but paralyzing at the same time. I feel much better now and by the end of the day I was okay. I spent the afternoon and evening surrounded by my precious family and 5 young women from the ages of 11-14. The girls reminded me, without even knowing, that life is a series of “the next adventure.” Even when the adventures take twists and turns that would never be welcomed by the traveler, they appear and you go along for the ride. This past week has been a ride I’ve been ready to get off of, but thankfully the last part of the week was quiet and somewhat boring.
I wish I could wave a magic wand and make my life make sense again. I try hard to keep my blog positive, but today it’s just not possible. I miss my husband, that makes me sad. I miss my daughter and her family, I miss my grandchildren and their dad in NC. I miss my friends. My family. Sometimes the pain of missing my husband is so blinding, I feel physical pain. What should be doable has become such a struggle. The mental health ramifications of the Covid-19 pandemic have been so vast and so varied. Then add the restrictions of having a loved one in a long term care facility… Not a single person is untouched by this virus. No matter who you are, or what you do, all lives are touched by it in some way. It’s incredibly hard to get my brain injured husband to understand why he can’t see me every day. I haven’t found a way to break through the injuries to help him realize that I don’t choose to stay away. I would be there with him every day if I could be.
One of the hardest things I’ve had to learn how to do since my husband’s stroke is to not share my heart with the man I love. He doesn’t process conversations the way he did, and adding the hurt I carry with me is not something that would be beneficial to him. No matter how much I want to share with him, I can’t. I won’t. It would be like telling a five year old. I wanted to get to a place where I could join a support group for caregivers, now the pandemic makes that an impossibility. Virtual support is good, but the human interaction of meeting with others face to face would be better. Someday…
Being blocked and not knowing what to write is antithetical to my mind. I usually have a head and heart full of words, not lately. I am usually more upbeat, not today. I want to feel the knowledge that words are not escaping me, but I don’t. I haven’t written in my journal, or my book, in weeks. I don’t know what to say.
I realize that this is not much of a blog entry, but it’s all I have right now. I appreciate you all and hope that you stay safe. And well.
Until next time…