Adjusting my sails...

*This post was started in February...and completed in April.  So it feels a little discombobulated when reading the top half to the bottom half.  Bear with me.  And bear with this post.  I loved the quote too much to give up on the half-written attempt, so I stuck with it.  But I definitely am in a different place than where I was in February.

"She stood in the storm, 

and when the wind did not blow her away,

she adjusted her sails."

~Elizabeth Edwards

I have been standing in the storm for quite awhile now.  Maybe even too long, but who is counting.  We have all been through a lot, so please let me retract that last statement.  I have been standing in my storm for awhile. There are puddles at the bottom of my feet...maybe in the case of a Wisconsin girl, there are even piles of snow.  And it feels like a very long time. But it takes a long time to adjust sails that have been in place for days, months, years.  It's hard to adjust.  It's taking a lot of time.  And energy.  

Energy to change.  Energy to adjust.  That has to come from within.  There has to be a huge desire to make something different than it already is.  And for someone who often feels like she has been hit by a "mack truck" of sadness and loss, I have found that sometimes I don't have the energy to do much more.  

Right now, I feel like I am in a crazy place.  Stuck.  Stuck between this "old" Alissa and the "new" Alissa.  The "new" Alissa was more prevalent about six months after the loss of Kennedy.  And I figured the "old" Alissa was never to be seen or heard from again, but she has started to resurface.  Especially in the last four or five months.  I feel more like "her" than I have in over two years.  Which is really weird because I almost feel so much like "her" that it's like I forget all that has happened.  Of course, I am quickly entered into the painful past when I see where I live, Kennedy's Korner, or just feel that ache of past experiences.  But it's still an interesting "stage" to say the least.  Does this seem possible?  Could I really be going back to that life?  But is it the life before my daughter?  The life without my husband?  

It has taken a lot of energy and time to get to this point in my grief.  It's a very weird place, though.  I can't seem to figure out where my "place" really is.  I am doing what I can to continue to honor and remember my daughter, but I don't feel the need to see a grief counselor or attend support groups.  I haven't needed to see any kind of counselor since the divorce.  I find that I don't need to blog as much or talk to others about what I am feeling or experiencing related to the death of Kennedy.  I feel connected most to those who have also experienced loss still, but the conversations don't have to entirely circulate around the children that we don't have.


So, this is an adjustment of sorts in my life.  An adjustment that I really didn't think would ever happen.  I am adjusting to my life as a babyloss mother.  A divorcee.  Etc.  But this adjustment feels ok...good even.  Like I have just been to the chiropractor to get an adjustment for the pain in my neck.  And I stepped out of the office into the sunlight and actually felt stronger and healthier than I have in forever.  But I had to make that adjustment.  I had to take steps and energy to be healthier.  To be ok.  I had to adjust my sails rather than let the grief overcome me.  And it did overcome me at times...and those were the times when I wanted it to just take me away.  Those were some very dark days.  But I kept fighting...fighting and adjusting to the storm that kept raining/hailing/snowing. 


Which leads me to where I am today.  I am at the point where the storm is clearing.  The sun is just on the horizon.  A rainbow might even be visible by some depending on how hard you look.   There is debris on the ground...a sign of what the storm left behind.  There is a lighter feeling in the air.  People are ready to step outside.  Experience the world again.  Experience it on solid, safer ground.  I am ready for that and am experiencing that.  I have stepped outside.    It is beautiful out here.  Yes, I see the debris.  I will always see the debris. But I see the sunshine and rainbow too.