Well, well, it’s been quite a while since I’ve put down my ponderings to the blogosphere. Been thinking about a lot, but not coherent enough to need the discipline of writing to sort it out, I suppose.
Also, I’ve still been busy with accompanying my spouse through his health problems. He’s still not back to work and only seen a slight improvement in symptoms. My mom, who was here following my hospitalization in May, went home a week ago.
And now it’s back to the regular schedule: volunteering twice a week at The Leadershop, water aerobics 1-2x a week, some other exercise another 3x a week, cooking a healthy dinner each day, reading and working on exercising my brain to push my stamina and comprehension.
In the midst of that, I’ve got fleeting thoughts of suicide again. They started with reading an alumni magazine whereupon I started composing my eulogy to be included in the next issue. So, I tossed that magazine in the recycle bin! Then songs and movies that reference death or suicide started triggering thoughts more than usual. So, when I mentioned this to my therapist, she asked what thoughts were under those.
Result: I don’t have a purpose, a goal, something that drives me, something I want to jump all in for, something that makes me want to get up in the morning and change the world. I miss that. I had that for 18 years as I prepared for and took part in the Ministry of Word and Sacrament. Now that job/lifestyle/identity is part of my past, and I accept that. And it’s okay to be sad. I’m still deeply grieving the investment I put into it and the joy I got out of it. I’m now in the in-between period where I am becoming and not whole yet.
This sucks. Many people end up in this space as their lives take different turns, decisions are made, life happens. And it sucks for everyone who is in it.
Being in the middle of life before and life after feels like a triggering moment. I DON’T have a passion and goal. I am daily making healthy choices that will end up as anchors to my future life, but are not in themselves particularly passionate. Even when I enjoy what I’m doing.
So there it is. I’m living with the deep sadness. I’m living in-between. Death and suicide are triggering my own dangerous thoughts again. And being in the middle of this sometimes feels dangerous.
C’est la vie?