Contentment

The word of the day is...contentment. The definition I like "n. peaceful satisfaction; absence of worry or restlessness." I've realized that I'm the exact opposite of content. This week it has reared it's ugly head in the list of projects I have planned for the house. Areas that I have lived with for several years with relative peace are now unacceptable. Have they gone down hill so quickly? No, but I'm in a state of discontent. Upon reflection, I think the problem stems from an utter loss of what to do. For several months, my entire schedule revolved around Mom. If I wasn't scheduled to be caring for her, I had to hurry and get as much done in my own home as possible. It felt as though all I did was run from one thing to the next. Now, for the most part, my life has started returning to "normal". I don't know how to handle it. I don't know what to do with myself. So, I'm finding projects. This wouldn't be a horrible way to help "deal" with things, except that I don't have the money for these projects. I took a leave from work to help care for Mom. This brings me back to my word... My challenge now is to deal with the emptiness without the crutch of busyness. Not a small task for a type "A" worrier.
I've decided on a trial hobby to help in my cause. I'm going to try my hand at card making. I'm not crafty, but I think I may be able to handle it. Also, I can use my hobby to "save" some $$. This, of course, depends on how pricey card making is. I don't know yet.

I did it!

I've created a blog. I've never really gotten the point, but I'm gonna try it anyway. I chose this title for my blog because my mom passed away a few weeks ago. This is my journey through the grief and loss of someone who was the centerpiece of my world for almost 33 years.
Mom was diagnosed with a brain tumor 12 weeks before her death. Not nearly enough time to prepare. It's the time of a summer vacation that flies by and then is a distant memory. I chide myself for not paying closer attention. Those were my last days with her. What did I say? Did I tell her enough that I loved her, that she was a great mom, that I can't fathom life without her? No, no and no. Could I have ever told her enough? no
It makes me want to hug everyone I care about and let them know. But, I don't. I'm not a "huggy" kind of person. Maybe I should start.
I feel bad for people that send their condolences. Nothing they say can help and yet they have to say something. It always sounds weak and they know it. "I'm so sorry for your loss" always makes me want to say "that's OK" just to make them feel better. But it's not OK. It feels like it will never be ok again. My mom is dead. How can anything ever be ok.
It feels as though this ache is eternal. There is a constant emptiness. I don't know how people survive the pain. It's shocking really. I see people all day, everyday that have lost people they love and they are functioning just like normal people. I do it too. I go shopping and make dinner all the while feeling the ache. I'm amazed by humanity's desire to live. Not just breathe, but really live. And so, I too am determined to live. Not just exist, but create a life for myself and my family. I need to step out of my comfort zone, make some changes and shake things up a bit. And you, my blog reading friends, will have a front row seat for the outcome. I have no idea where to start. Oh wait, yes, I do. I've gained many pounds of "grief" over these last few months. I need to begin a journey to wellness and why not start with the physical weight. I carry around way too much stress. I need to learn to relax. I'm not sure how one goes about learning to relax, but I'm going to work on it. I have a few "masters" living under my roof. I may have to take lessons.
Through everything, I have not lost the sense of humor my mom instilled in me nor the sarcasm that she found both amusing and frustrating. I hold these close to me to guard against depression and despair. So far, it's working. It is my faith though that keeps me sane. Without the belief that Mom is singing in heaven,even as I type, I could not bear the pain. It's knowing that she is in a better place and I will see her there. I like to think that she's "setting up the house" for us. She got there early so that when we get to heaven it feels "homey".
Ok, first post done. I hope it isn't too depressing.