Plan B

The other day I made a comment to my dad about how sad I was to be missing out on so many beautiful days because I was too engulfed in grief to really notice them, much less get outside and enjoy them. He said something that stuck out to me.

"This isn't a detour from life, this is life."

As much as we wish it were so, life isn't a series of perfect & beautiful days. Some days you wake up energized about life, you go outside and thank God for your many blessings and you soak up every ounce of the sunshine. Other days, you wake up from a nightmare, immediately roll to your knees and ask God for the strength to just keep breathing through another day. Each of these reflect real days of a real life. Turns out it's true what they say, not every day is roses and unicorns. It's been difficult for me to accept this because before Mitch left, I had very few complaints about my life (none?). And now, the pain is deep and feels unending. 

For the past eight years, Mitch has been a part of my life. He was my friend on the dance team, my boyfriend, the guy I was writing on a mission, my fiance, my husband. For the past eight years, I've had him to talk to, to write to, to hug. And now, when I'm forced to face the most grueling challenge of my life, he's gone. When I would do ANYTHING for a conversation with him, a letter, a hug...he's gone. And sure, I know he's not "gone" gone...but it's definitely not the way it used to be. Not by a long shot.

And so, I have to be brave. I have to suck it up and do this life without him, no matter what my feelings are on the subject. I wake up and look at the empty side of the bed. I swallow the lump in my throat and get up. I go get myself new tires. I watch dog training videos and try not to think about how we were going to get one together. I try to come up with a plan for the fall that doesn't feel miserable, one I can be excited about. I distract myself with a million things throughout the day so I don't break down in tears. Sometimes that works, sometimes I can't escape the much needed release. I try not to fight it. Then, I take some melatonin and pray to fall asleep quickly. And I start all over. 

It's getting better, I'd say. It's feeling a little less intense day by day. I've come a long way from those first few blog posts, but I still feel so far away from where I used to be. But my life before Mitch passed can't be my yardstick anymore. I'd go insane. I can only measure myself against the girl who walked out of the hospital on February 25, heartbroken, head-spinning and in complete shock. Without a doubt, I'm stronger than that girl.

I'm not giving up the fight. Life is precious, it's worth fighting for even and especially when it looks like all is lost. I have to make this time without Mitch count so I can return to him without regret.

This isn't plan A. Obviously. Plan A was a life with Mitch, curly haired babies & the house in Seattle. This is plan B. And I'm going to rock the hell out of it. 

"No one has failed who keeps trying and keeps praying."

Jeffrey R. Holland