I hate what has happened, but…(deep breath) I don’t hate my life, today (sigh)….
It has taken me thirteen months to get here. Where? A place where I can sit down in my freshly rearranged living room, in complete exhaustion, bruised from moving furniture, not showered, in sweats, and when I look around for the first time I think to myself, I don’t hate my life. I’m in the same house, our dream home, the third and final home we shared as a married couple and the very one that I now hate and love. I wondered out loud, “Jesus, how long has it been since I have been able to say that I don’t hate my life?” I wish I could describe the feeling but what’s worse than not having the right words is the fact that I don’t want the feeling to go away. I quickly grab my phone check the date and wouldn’t you know, it’s the 22nd of March. It’s the thirteen month to the day, what are the odds? Is this a sign?
I’ve become even more attuned at looking for signs from the universe, I have given up on religion but not the power of the universe, for all intents and purposes I am agnostic. Agnosticism, according to the philosopher William L. Rowe: “In the popular sense of the term, an agnostic is someone who neither believes nor disbelieves in the existence of God, while a theist believes that God exists, an atheist disbelieves in God”. Agnosticism is a doctrine or a set of tenets rather than a religion as such. If my Abuelita were here, she’d think this is quite typical of me just to “llevar la contraria” (do the contrary). As an agnostic I believe that religious claims such as God, or the divine existence is unknown and perhaps unknowable.
So here I sit, on my same old couch, just in a different place in the same old living room, phone in hand and I type it in. I don’t hate my life… Ok, now what? I text it out to two people. It’s the middle of the afternoon, my car is packed with donation bags and boxes, I have to go to the charitable donation store and as I’m getting up the first text response dings in. It’s my friend, “That’s a good thing. What are you doing?”
What am I doing? I’m sitting here while the upstairs hallway is so packed that you can’t easily get through. There are laundry baskets full of clothes, bedding, (all that need to be washed). There are tools, a carpet cleaner, a vacuum, boxes, old clothes and toys all scattered throughout. The newly evacuated princess room, which I need to transform into an office and spare bedroom, don’t even have a spot for me to enter into. What Am I doing? I will be resigning from my job, starting two new businesses and I write a lot, but I do not ‘know’ what I am doing.
I started this blog at the persuasion of friends and loved ones who urged me to write. They liked the updates I sent throughout the time Brett was sick, through the process of diagnosis, (which ultimately was central nervous system (CNS) vasculitis: an inflammation of blood vessel walls in the brain or spine) and then updates about life after.
In the blink of an eye I became a widow, responsible for two kids a house and our lives. It has not been an easy road but if you find my journey interesting, entertaining or courageous, follow and share my story.