Pain and Holding Space

There's two things on my mind today, and I'm going to try to fit both into one entry, so please bear with me. One of them has to do with a realization, an insight that came to me a few days ago. See, come the beginning of next month, me darlin' wife will have been gone for 2.5 years. In that time, I've looked at a couple of things in my life and thought that it might be a good idea to change them. It might be good to get out of the house where I live. It's far more space than I need. I'm able to pay for it, but it pretty much means I live paycheck to paycheck. It's also the house we bought together, and where we lived from May of 2003 until February of 2011. That's a lot of time to build up memories. And they're still there. There isn't a room here I can go into where there aren't memories and reminders of her. Some are tougher than others, but they're all there. By extension, I've thought the same about moving out of the city where I live. We were together here for almost 15 years, and there's not a lot of places to go that don't remind me of her. Like the house, some are stronger about that than others, but there's not much of anywhere to go nearby that doesn't have the potential to bring memories up.

Then there's my job. There are a lot of things I like about it. There are several I really dislike, and some of those have cropped up since me darlin' wife took her life. I'd miss some of the colleagues I have. I'd miss doing the kind of work I do. I'd miss the stability of it. I certainly wouldn't miss the politics, or some of the unethical incompetents. I know I'm not perfect, but I do take pride in doing my job well...and it is both painful and infuriating seeing others coming in and bungling the same kind of work. It's worse when they've been told what to do (or not do) and refuse to change. Bah! Enough about that. Regardless, if I ended up moving, I'd have to look for a new job.

I'd done a bit of job hunting. I'd talked to a realtor before. I'd cleared out a lot of her stuff from the house. But in the last year, I've found myself unable to approach working on any of that. Sure, the thought has come to mind, but it always seems to slip away or get replaced by something else. Or I don't have the energy. Or I'm feeling sick. Or I need to do something else. I'd thought that once I was past the dark corridor from the end of September (our wedding anniversary) at least to the beginning of February (when she died), I might snap out of it. It hasn't worked out that way, though. That inertia, that lethargy, that resistance has continued. Up until a couple of days ago, I honestly had no idea why. I wasn't sure if I was just still running, if maybe I'd managed to “break” something in my heart or my brain. In my darker moments, I wondered if maybe this was all God was going to let me have now, and I should just be thankful there's not less.

And then, in one of the bleaker moments, one thing hit me. It wasn't a flash like lightning. It was a bit slower and a bit harder to accept. It was like the sudden flare of orange-red when the volcano on the far side of the valley suddenly blows its top at midnight. And the idea that came was: on some level, some part of me has been trying to hold & preserve a space for her to come back and fill. That thought rang true. It made my guts drop. For a little while, it banished any other thought from my head. And, dammit, it fit. No wonder I hadn't done more to sell the house. No wonder I hadn't boxed up or cleared out the last of her stuff. No wonder I hadn't been more active in looking for another job. If, on a gut level, some part of me still didn't want to accept that she was gone, it'd make sense to try to hold a space for her to come back to. A room for her to stay in. A house she could find. It's the same kind of logic that drives acts of sympathetic magic, where you do something to one part of a connected whole and it affects it all....even if all the pieces aren't in the same place.

The other, related idea has to do with pain. See, I'm not so sure that I would've been open to an idea like that if I hadn't been in such a bleak, painful place. I know several people that just want me to cheer up. I'm not sure if they really believe that's what's best for me or if it's just easier for them when I'm not hurting and so they want my pain to go away...for their sakes. Regardless, I don't think being happy or comfortable would have led—or maybe driven—me to that idea. I believe it took hurting and being sad and confused and afraid. Most importantly, I believe it took being willing to sit there with those feelings and not let them drive me away for that to happen. It was embarrassing, deeply embarrassing, to have to admit that might be the case. After all the work I've done on myself in the last couple years, and as much as I've talked about that work, that seems like a huge oversight. How could I not see that? And how could I be so immature, so needy, so insecure as to have that go on with me? My ego and pride took a real pounding when that idea came through. It still hurts to think about it now, though having had some time for it to settle in, it's not as bad.

There was a psychologist I knew once who'd said that, in therapy, he would always go to what hurts. It would usually be resisted, but it would also usually be either the core issue itself or the key to getting there. And being happy and cheerful doesn't have the same power to get us to move as being uncomfortable does. It sure doesn't for me. Those folks can be frustrated with me or pissed off at me when I don't suddenly become cheerful and positive when they want me to. I'm the one who has to get through this, and if it means hurting or being afraid or being sad....so be it. Much though I still love me darlin' wife, I will not follow the road she took. And I can't see living a life where I'm trapped and tormented by things I don't want to face because that'd mean not being happy or positive right now. Fuck that. The facade cracks, no matter how well it's maintained, and those demons are there, eating away from the inside. I'd rather get to where I'm whole and intact, in my heart and mind and soul, than to just look like and getting good at pretending I'm happy....while I'm decaying and dying inside.

Getting insights like those used to seem like something that'd make things suddenly better somehow. I'd understand what's going on, I'd have a handle on it, I'd have some control. I'd know what to do. Things would be come different, better. As I've gone through the last years, I've gotten to find out that's rarely the case. Sure, it makes things clearer, but it doesn't do anything, in and of itself, to change them. That's another issue in and of itself. It's the difference between seeing there's a way out of Hell.

And walking it.