It’s Halloween. Last night was the first night that wasn’t interrupted by an overflowing pad or painful cramping. It was a good night, all things considered. Yesterday was better too. I pushed Monday a little too far with packing and lifting. Yesterday I rested more and just sat more and watched my show hole filler, Gilmore Girls, some more.
Last night was also good because I was able to do a little girls night out with a friend. We were going to double date with our husbands but her husband was not feeling well. He suffers from Lupus. We talked about health issues and hardships.
We talked about the hands that we are dealt in life. She share with me that a man came into her work and was clearly effected by substance abuse, was just release from a detox clinic, was obviously struggling in that moment. She said that when moments like that come up we become grateful for the blessings and trials that we have.
I paused and thought. I actually felt a sense of gratitude for the trial that I have been dealt. And it seems a little weird to me that I can honestly say that. I think my dream helped. And I know my knowledge of the plan helped. And I believe that knowing I am not alone, others are experiencing loss too and that we can find support, it helps as well.
In that very moment I was genuinely grateful for where I was at in life and the potential to bless others through my experiences.
I wanted to tell her about my miscarriage. But I feel like I needed to. She was still my friend regardless. And I was just finding some peace discovering that I still had a life even though I miscarried.
I wasn’t forgetting or pushing the memory away I was just happy to know that I still had the strength to carry out something as small as getting together with a friend.
I also didn’t want to taint our conversation. In that moment I was feeling happiness and hope. Hormones might have helped.
My friend, if you’re reading this, don’t feel the slightest bit silly if you didn’t know. I am SOOO grateful for that night. You have no idea how good it felt to me to have someone just talk to me like they normally would. No tip toeing, no feeling sorry for me, none of that. Not that those are bad, I am grateful for those who have expressed the sympathy and empathy. SO GRATEFUL. But the break from that was a breath of fresh air.
I am always surprised by our progress with packing. This strength is not coming from me! We packed our bathroom, most of our clothes (After about 6 loads of laundry), all our tools, cleaning supplies, and laundry closet, under the sinks, and we’ve packed about 18+ boxes (not all yesterday, but yeah… Still an accomplishment).
I’ve been making sure that I give myself a good pat on the back, find Jason for a hug, or give myself a cookie for all these tasks that I’ve done.
On Sunday I felt like I was the Gold Medalist Champion in the Olympics for taking a shower.
On Monday I thought I was the best
Yesterday I Rainbow-ized a complete stranger’s 4D ultrasound that she had posted on instagram. In the moment I felt good for serving and using my design skills, later I felt a little silly. But I just decided that it was a coping mechanism for what ever I was feeling in that moment (I feel like Betsy Branigan from Psych when she first meets Lassiter).
Then I totally word vomited on a friend. She had a baby girl who died from cancer a while back and they wanted to celebrate her birthday by inviting other to honor her by being kind and sharing their acts of kindness. I was enamored with this idea and spewed off all the kind things that had occurred to me in the past week.
I also find myself going off on tangents randomly in conversations. I feel like I can’t seem to tie them back in.
My memory is really poor! With all the attempting to keep track of our boxes, assets, and inventory, I can’t spell worth beens, and like I said I feel awkward in conversations at times.