Naked new year

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Naked new year

That’s right readers…I’m getting naked for the new year. Now, before you get too excited ( or horrified for that matter) I’m talking about emotionally. It’s time to strip off the barricades, let the boundaries drop to the floor, shimmy out of the cloak. I’ve always been one to speak my mind, I feel it’s important. But I speak my mind about social issues, about struggling politicians, about wayward football players, about single parenting. I’m just scratching the surface. This is my year to get real.
To be clear I’m not talking about walking around shouting about my feelings about everyone else, “you let me down, you wear weird shoes”, I’m talking about my feelings and feeling them. I’m talking about crying when I miss Chris, I don’t have to know why, I just have to feel. I think we all spend a lot of time figuring out why we feel how we do and not time feeling. The feeling part is the healing part, not the other way around. And let’s face it, feelings don’t always make sense. I’ve cried about my hair not looking right, about how my pants fit, I’ve yelled at someone (in my head) to get the f out of the way because they are blocking the cheese at the grocery store.
Having said that, I don’t intend to embrace my road rage or ball up in a quivering mass every time I have to struggle to zip my jeans, that WOULD be exhausting. I think all those things are symptoms of not feeling my feelings when I have them.
Part two of getting naked is listening, REALLY listening to others. I’ve been in therapy enough to know there is an awkward space in talking about something where you want to stop talking. It’s the time in a therapy session when a therapist just looks at you, it feels weird, like time stopped. If you were at a cocktail party it’s the time you’d walk away to get another cocktail weenie. It’s the time I make a joke, or offer advice. Maybe it’s the space before you get naked though. Maybe it’s your turn to drop the cloak, I want to be there. See, what I’ve said there is I want to watch you get naked and sit awkwardly silent as you do so. I may not be invited over for tea much this year.
Part three is taking personal responsibility. It’s still a learning process, I’m gonna mess up. Failure is an amazing teacher, if you allow it to be. My current thinking goes something like this. I messed up. I hate messing up, it makes me feel inadequate. Feeling Inadequate makes me feel wholly inadequate, a person who is wholly inadequate is a complete failure. There’s nothing more to do, I should give up… Frankly, that’s not helpful, but I do want to say I messed up, and sometimes I don’t know what to do, but I want to do better. I’m responsible for messing up and I’m responsible to learn from it. Agreeing to being a complete failure avoids responsibility, because if I am indeed a complete failure then there’s nothing I could ever do, so I get an out.
I could have done more for Chris, I don’t know how it would have changed things. I did the best I could and I wish my best had been more. I am profoundly sad that Chris is gone. I miss my friend, my partner and my husband, every single day. I hate that my kids are growing up without a dad, I hate that there is some part of them that thinks they could have done something different. I hate the approach of holidays because I know he’s not going to be there. I hate getting into his car and smelling the faintest smell of him and being overcome with sadness that it is only a smell and soon, even that will be gone. I hate waking up from dreams about him and feeling the hope drifting away like smoke, I am angry when the girls are struggling with math or friends and I can’t do it alone, and I resent doing it alone. We had an agreement dammit, and you broke it. And I am alternately sad and angry and resentful and self loathing about all of those things and watch out, cause I’m gonna be feeling those things. Because feeling those things is healing.

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