The typical question: “How are you, Lokita?” I find it impossible to answer. No adjective can quite describe how I am. And do I really want to get into the details? Do they really want to hear? When I look at photos of myself and see radiance, aliveness and joy, I am surprised.
Several of my loyal readers have asked me why there have been so few blog posts from me lately. They said they imagine that my life has settled down more, and therefore I am not writing that much. But as is the case with imagination – it is imagination! I am writing a lot, I just haven’t shared it.
In the past month or so, almost every morning I wake up feeling sad and depressed. Another day. Another day in paradise without Steve. Another day of wondering about it all. Who am I? Another day of surrendering to what is, rather than life being what I would like it to be.
Not wanting to go down the slippery slope of despair, I usually get out of bed quickly, and take Coco to the beach. There, we go for a long walk; there, I celebrate my new knee! Something to celebrate for sure. No more pain. The roar of the ocean and the sun and the water and the sand and the tropical plants and the hermit crabs and throwing the stick for Coco make me feel better, every single time. Coco and the beach are my uplifts.
It’s been a difficult time because soon Steve’s killers (for the first time I am calling them that publicly) will be sentenced. I have been asking myself again and again if I want to attend the sentencing hearing. Why would I want to do that? Would I regret it if I did not go? Would I regret it if I did?
And then, if I did go, would I want to address the prisoners, via the judge? What might I want to say to them? Perhaps they would speak, too. How would I respond to that? Could I bear to actually hear their voices?
This whole thing is so intense, a very deep process. It’s simply horrible. 1001 questions, thoughts, and feelings; many written down, but inappropriate to share publicly right now.
Then of course there is the recovery from cancer and its grueling treatment. I have yet to integrate psychologically what actually happened there. Breast cancer! Me! Unbelievable! I am a positive human being with a healthy lifestyle. How could this have happened? Well, said the doctor, it was just “bad luck”. Hm.
My body is still healing from chemo and radiation. The brain is slower (= chemobrain), my eyesight has changed. My energy levels are lower, and I have to rest more. My hormones are different (instant menopause aka chemopausr), so I am getting to know many new aspects of myself. Multi-tasking is a thing of the past. I can only do one thing at a time. Let that sink in – doing one thing at a time. Quite healthy, really, when you think about it.
The good news is that my immune system is very strong. I feel healthy, I am eating well, and am almost back to my normal 110 lbs weight. Sleeping is another matter altogether. As soon as the lights go out, my heart starts racing. What is it trying to tell me?
And omnipresent is the loss of Steve, the grief, the utter bewilderment. The void where he used to be is glaringly obvious to me everywhere, always. I give my best to adjust, but it is challenging. For example: enjoying some homemade German potato salad last night, I looked over to Steve’s hammock, fully expecting him to be there. The hammock was empty. He will never ever again sit there with Coco in his lap, laughing, enthusing to me about yoga class and his plans for the garden tomorrow. It is incomprehensible to me, still, almost 18 months later.
So has my life settled down? Don’t know, really.
What I do know is that in photos I look radiant, alive and joyful. And yes, in my unchanging, ever-stable core I am that.
PS. For those of you who read my previous post – my bruised nose is all healed up.
“When joy has a reason, it is not going to last long. When joy is without any reason, it is going to be there forever.” ~Osho