Wednesday, May 02, 2012

The work at hand

I honestly don't know how it can possibly be May already.

There are friends I have not seen in four months. New babies I haven't met yet. Phone calls I haven't returned. Emails I've ignored. Recitals I've forgotten to attend. This fog, this haze, has consumed me now for almost three months.

And yet, I'm better.

I guess me realizing how disconnected I've been is part of the being better. We can thank my patient, loving family and my awesome therapist for that.

Susan isn't coming back. My grief isn't going away. I have to find a place for both of these, and I'm getting there. Slowly.

If you knew Susan at all, even "just online" (which we all know she valued tremendously), then you know that one of the beautiful things about here - what drew people to her - was how she made you feel about yourself. She was selfless, kind, and even in her scientific socialness, she was a wonderful friend.

Now. Imagine that person was your best friend for years and years and heaped that love upon you like she did even her "just online" friends. Now. Imagine that love a million times stronger.

That's what is gone from my life.

The wake up call in therapy has been that I value myself so very little, and I spent a good part of my life surrounding myself with people who didn't value me either. Susan always valued me; she valued every living creature (I say as I shamefully admit I flushed a bully algae eater fish without a second thought because he was being a jerk to the other fish. Woosh. Goodbye.).

I get it now. Get, as in understand, not have adopted fully and graduated from all further therapy. I get that I have to start here. Deep within me. I have to realize that I wouldn't have had a friend like Susan if there wasn't something valuable about me.

Find the way to love myself. Sounds so trite and textbook doesn't it?

Maybe, but it's my calling now. Because when I can do that for myself, I can teach my children to do it to, and I want that very much. I want my children to know how valuable they are.

So much work to do. So so so much work.