I have a client session at 6PM. My plan for today was to write. That is it. Today was to be a writing day for my book, but it turns out that I did little writing.
I did start with that intention this morning by opening the document. Upon opening it, I discovered a new way to organize it the file into chapters instead of just creating page breaks. So, I did that, creating ten chapter seperations for what I have already written (not that all chapters are completed). Now it was time to write.
I hit the tab for the chapter that describes the day I find out my Dad had been found dead. I start to read it, to see what I have written and where I have left off. I know that I have not written it all yet. I know that I have really not gone that far at all even though it says there are 9 pages to this section already. I read over what I have written and start editing it. I am cutting parts out that are more setting up the day and not really what happened and realize I have to call my sister.
I have been putting off calling my sister for clarification about the phone message that she left for me that day, that gave me the news. Did she tell me to call her or did she leave the news on the message? I am sure she must have told me to call her, she wouldn’t have left the news of our father’s death on the voicemail, right? But, it was a big surprise, so maybe she was in shock when she left it?
I don’t want to ask her this question, because I don’t want her to have to remember that day and all of the emotions that may come up for her, but I have already put it off for over a month. I actually have to ask her about another phonecall, too. Digging in to all of these moments of my life is quite emotional. I am grateful for everything that has happened in my life because it has made me who I am, but in many ways I have forgotten about it all. I have gotten really good at living in the present and not dwelling in the past, but now it is necessary for me to go there. Unfortunately, this means bringing my loved ones there too as I want to know all of the details and not just what my memory banks are giving me. I don’t want to bring any pain to my loved ones, but I also want to tell my story.
I call my sister and she seems fine with answering this question. She actually remembers it very clearly. I don’t know why I assumed she wouldn’t? She lost her father that day, too. Her life was changed that day too. She may not of created a new career because of it, but she is certainly not the same pre-loss and past-loss, either. She does not get emotional in answering, but is very knowledgible and straight ahead. I am grateful for her answer.
That was at 12 noon today. I have not looked at my document since. I let myself be distracted by answering ads for the items I am giving away on FreeCycle. I did some online window shopping. I stalked facebook, twitter, and even perezhilton.com. I kept very busy during those hours, but I didn’t write.
I told myself that I get easily distracted. I guess today was a wash, I say as I get cozy on my new sofa. I can start over tomorrow though, the day is almost over. I think about how I haven’t gone to yoga yet and I am hungry. If I eat I won’t be able to do yoga on a full stomach. I have errands to run, but I am waiting for my client session. I will just start over tomorrow. I will do yoga tomorrow. I will do the errands tomorrow.
Then, I caught myself. Um…Why don’t I just start over right now? If I want to start the day over, then start the day over. It really can be that easy. I can easily fit a few errands in before my session. I can easily pull myself of my ass and into action. I am the one in control.
What also realized is that I haven’t just been shielding and trying to protect the emotions of my loved ones, I have been doing it to myself. Sure, I talk about the fact that my dad’s death inspired me to create my joyology a lot, but actually going back to those days, those months, to all of my grieving and loss, hmmmm, it may be harder than I thought. I want to do it though. I am going to do it., because I make up that is important if for no one else, than for me.
Loss is hard. No matter how or when it happens and that is why I choose to live and I choose it over and over and over again.
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