Steps

5:30 a.m. I am lighting the first candle of my day.  Early morning has always been my favourite time of day.  I was looking back through my baby books the other day and saw in Michael's that some of the entries had started with comments like "Baby boy, you are still asleep as it's early morning...".  Now, even though he is no longer here in body, I continue to write to him early in the morning. 

About a month ago I was able to stop taking one of the meds I'd been taking for nearly three years.  Although that is a good thing, one of the results is that I have distressing dreams.  Sometimes Michael is in my dreams but not often.  Someone who knows about dreams and their significance would probably have a hay day with them, but I'm not interested in trying to figure them out.  Every night I fall asleep hoping he will visit me in my dreams.  I'm tired this morning but after a dream much like Toad's Wild Ride last night I'm afraid to go back to bed. 

One of the effects of Michael's suicide last year my fear of committing to anything.  I have probably mentioned in earlier posts that I am a volunteer pianist at church.  The night Michael died I had gone to choir practice, even though he had been telling me he was going to kill himself.  What was I thinking at that point???? I don't understand how I could have left, but I think I must have believed that it was just another very bad night that he would get through.  I would only be gone for an hour or so and then I would be home and we would work together at keeping him safe.  But I never got the chance.  He killed himself while I was out and while his dad was upstairs.  Somehow God must have given me a bit of a warning because I remember opening the front door and looking directly at where he was.    I'm digressing...what I started to say is that I find it very hard to go to choir practice (or anything else) in the evenings now because I am afraid something bad will happen while I am out.  This is why I haven't been able to return to work.   The thought of my workplace reminds me of those last six months with Michael and it brings on a real blanket of anxiety, almost a feeling of suffocation.  I'm not explaining it very well but what I'm trying to say is that now, a year after his death, I'm starting to understand some of the feelings I'm having.  It's almost like there are layers to grief and the top layer has peeled away exposing a different fresh layer.  This layer is different but it's still raw and painful and frightening. 

My minister commented the other day on the fact that I seemed to "be doing okay."   She's right.  I am doing okay.  But I do okay by doing the things I need to do and avoiding the things I need to avoid.  When the ability to do that is taken away from me I start to flounder.  This is what happens when I feel I have to commit to something other than my family.  I can't do it.  I'm afraid.  I need it to be okay for me to be afraid.  The time will come, I believe, when my soul will have healed enough for me to do these things.  That time just isn't yet.  I'm sorry if I disappoint people but right now I'm the person walking in my shoes and I'm doing the best I can.  The love and support of friends and family continue to give me strength to get through my days.  But it's baby steps and I'm okay with baby steps.