When stuff gets hard

It’s funny how we hold faith that life is fair. We figure the ups and downs must all even out somehow, and that the effort we put in and good we do (or don’t do) must somehow make a difference.

I somehow thought, or hoped, that after Nige died the universe would give me a break. I’m a sensitive person and although I have too many good things to count in my life I also felt like there had been enough stress and heartache. Most of the stress and heartache has, in hindsight, probably been of my own doing. Because I was only capable of behaving a certain way at certain times in my life!

After Nige died I felt I had so much wisdom and a zest to live, and live large – as he could not anymore. I felt I had suffered so much I was invincible from any more hurt. I was still in the bubble of love and support friends, family and even complete strangers had cushioned me with. Along with the immense sadness and loneliness I felt a huge sense of possibility. I was alive, I could do anything. I had the power. I also had so much faith in humanity and the kindness that lay there.

Whenever something bad happens, I don’t just feel sad, I feel cheated, and I feel like I have somehow done something to deserve the pain. Of course that is rubbish. 

There is no use crying to the heavens the call of “why me?!” (Although it is tempting). Why me because I’m alive and don’t live in a bubble. Why me because I do live life large and love with a huge open heart. Why me because I stay in situations that are difficult, learning the lessons they bring, instead of running away. Why me because I give second, third and even fourth chances, because I also want to be forgiven for my own shortcomings. Why me because I want to experience all that this world has to offer. Why me because I want to make a difference and step out of my comfort zone.

“Maybe you have to know the darkness before you can appreciate the light.”― Madeleine L’Engle, A Ring of Endless Light

So if any of you are wondering how I am doing almost 10 months from the departure of my husband, the answer is, I am still human. I am not invincible, but nor am I buried in a huge pit of despair. I am living, taking one day at a time, looking for the beauty and the good in this world, while realising I still have to make my way through periods of dark. I am not immune to sadness due to what I have been through, but nor does what I have been through stop me from hoping that the sun will shine on me again.

I may be broken and imperfect. But I am alive.

“To be human is to be broken and broken is its own kind of beautiful.”― Robert M. Drake