Who knew that New Year’s Day would bring such new year’s grief? Actually, a friend who is a retired grief counselor knew but we didn’t get together about it till yesterday. She said she’d always warn people about it and they wouldn’t believe her
Thanksgiving was hard as I wrote in my last post. I survived Christmas quite well, making new memories with my kids, staying in a houseboat in Sausalito and seeing the sights my 3 year old grandson favors – the zoo, the aquarium, etc.
Then I flew home on New Year’s Eve and enjoyed sunset on the beach with friends. All ok.
But starting the next morning all resilience was gone. Although January 1 is just another day, it seemed so significant to start a new year without my husband. The first of many. Impossible.
I felt bereft without Larry. So lonely.
I could blame it on the jet lag, and certainly that didn’t help.
But there’s no question that all these “Firsts” are hard to navigate and they’ve come so quickly. My first birthday without him in October. My first Thanksgiving without him in November. His birthday in early December. Christmas. And now the new year.
There’s something so symbolic about the new year. It’s all about the passage of time, and the passage of time makes you look at yourself and your life – both past and future. After all, the custom of resolutions is associated with the start of a new year, whether or not you make them or keep them. At the very least, it’s time to tackle all the things you postponed until “after the holidays.” At the most, it’s a fresh start, a time of new beginnings, time to start new things, and leave others behind.
So what did I postpone as I worked to hold myself together through the holidays? Not little things, big things!
All the big decisions about new beginnings. What am I going to do with the rest of my life? Should I try to rebuild my consulting business? Should I do some other kind of work ? Retire? Where am I going to spend the rest of my life? When should I sell my big house that I rattle around in alone, making me feel even lonelier – a single small being in a space meant for two, or three or four.
I pushed myself hard in the last few days to start making some of these decisions. Then I started having panic attacks and I haven’t been sleeping.
The passage into a new year facing an unknown future alone is scary. And it feels sort of like leaving Larry behind in last year. I miss him. There is no place of safety or security in my mind or in my heart.
Finally I realized I have to do more healing first, before pushing forward. Get over the holidays. Get past this first rush of new year’s grief. Get my feet back under me. Stay in the present. Adjust to being home, to being alone after being with family. Not worry about big decisions, until tomorrow, or next week or month. To stay present in today.
I’ve meditated, alone and in a group. I’ve allowed myself to cry. I’ve gone back to exercising, to yoga. I’m journaling and studying a bit about healing trauma – as caregiving over time involves traumatic experiences. I’m doing artwork. I’m tackling little projects, errands where I can feel like I got something done. I’m seeing friends.
I’m still feeling crappy, but I am feeling less crappy than last week. I’m okay with that as progress through the new year’s grief.