Monday, February 1, 2016
January has been a hard month. Winter is hard on me...always has been. No matter what I do, I beg for the daylight to return and for the warm sun but Mother Nature does not hurry so I have to learn to cope. I need long days of being in the woods. Being immersed in a tunnel of lush green. I don't even care if it is raining...give me those days.
For the past couple days, I have been thinking about that shitty morning of losing Faye. Waking up on the operating room table with a doctor telling me she was dead. Totally in a fucking fog. Leaving a hospital 4 days later with a huge abdominal scar and picking her up in an urn a week later.
I have shared this story and million times it seems. To media. To friends. To race directors. To family. To strangers.
But, after 10 years, no matter how often I tell it, I question DID THAT REALLY HAPPEN? Did I really wake up, gutted and hands aching to be a mother? How the hell does someone keep going after that? I am not patting myself on the back AT ALL for keeping going for a decade...working through what I need to to move day to day, year to year.
Most days I feel strong as hell. Emotionally, nothing can stop me.
Some days, I feel like "what is this pain...did that happen...I am sure that did not happen to me...why do I, at a cellular level, feel broken?"
I don't really have a point in writing this quick post. I guess I continue to be in awe at the will and human spirit. And respect the depth that we can pull from to get through.