By now, you must know I’m going to “check in” with you every few months. So here I am. By the way, just because it’s only every few months, I should emphasize that you are still my most beautiful nightmare every day.
How am I handling things 8 months into this new life? Well, I still cry, I still can’t quit looking at your pictures, I still curl up with the fuzzy pillow because it reminds me of you. I still have your toothbrush, my bloody jeans from that night, every silly little memento I may have collected along our way. I still haven’t had a date, nor do I have any prospects. I’m fine with it so don’t try to set me up.
I had a birthday. Without you. It was hard. I kept remembering last year. After everyone left, you jumped in the pool. Then we sat in the couch taking what I refer to as our “Progressive Selfies.” I have all 20 of them printed out but my favorite is the one that looks like you are eating my head. I love looking at them because you were so sweet & silly that night.
I am still learning, growing, changing. I have begun to recognize my strengths, my weaknesses, the oddities that make me who I am. My sadness is still driving me, whether it be keeping me too busy to think or to sit alone on my bed so all I can do is think. I find it hard to be social because people exhaust me. They need me to be “normal” but I don’t know what that is yet. I don’t want to find that new normal place because that would mean I have accepted you being gone.
I had “planned” (using that word quite loosely, as I am learning I have no plans that have come to fruition as I expected.), ok, I had planned to bounce back from my grief over you in a nice quick time, & show everyone that I would honor your memories by being strong, witty, perfect. What I have done instead is spend hour upon hour learning about myself. I have been “listening” to what God has been telling me. I have been learning about how my past drives me, how my experiences are impacted by the baggage I carry. I’m learning things that would have changed your life. I wish you were here to grow with me.
I have re-discovered a dream I had for many years to help women. A dream where women would gather around one another & lift each other up, supporting each other instead of tearing one another down or judging each other. Apparently, my grief & the acts that led up to it, will be quite helpful when this dream becomes reality. That means you will no longer be my little secret. Your life & death, our relationship, as well as my sexual & emotional abuse, my marriage, my son, my life, will all be utilized to help others in their struggles. I’m very intimated by the prospect, but if I am going to be honest, I am also beginning to develop some excitement. (Shhh! Don’t tell W, L & J! They are quite ready for me to admit this!)
Maybe some of the people I help will be your family. I have not spoken to them since your viewing. It breaks my heart. I know that they are in indescribable pain, as am I. I often want to reach out to your mom. I am afraid of her rejecting me again. Guess what I recently learned, I don’t do well with rejection. Who knew? Probably everyone. I may actually get the nerve up one day to try to speak with her. In the meantime, I pray for your family, your friends, the people who loved you. And I am reminded of how fragile life is, but more, how fragile we are. Despite the greatest strength within us, we are all wounded deeply by small actions or words every day.
I promise to continue to try & love the uglies. I promise to try to overcome my personal hurdles. I promise to not let negative words or thoughts win in my life, whether they are being thrown at me or I am trying to throw them at another. I will stop the cycle in my small world. My small world will become love driven. My small world will be overflowing with love.
Andrew, you are my most beautiful nightmare, my most precious memories, my heart’s content & discontent. You are missed so deeply & I long for the day when I see you again.