I canceled all my holiday plans at the last minute, in favor instead of cocooning up in my house for a few days and finally letting myself feel this all.
Finally letting myself grieve.
And grieve I have. There have been tears and sobs and moments where I have found myself curled up in a ball immobilized by the heartache of the last year.
I have bargained, and pleaded, and begged.
For answers.
For enlightenment.
For relief.
For something better than this.
And in my darkest moments, when I have pictured a lifetime of pain and no one to ever call me "mommy"; I have collapsed under the weight of it all. Breaking down into tiny little pieces that I am not entirely sure how to bring back together.
Because this is not the life I want. And it feels as though there is nothing I can do to change it.
It feels as though this disease has won. And will continue to win. Always.
But today, I got up. I took a shower. I washed my sheets. And I bundled myself up to go for a walk outside. Which you should know is rare for me. I tend to treat winters in Alaska much like I used to treat summers in Arizona; I stay indoors until the world outside returns to more reasonable temperatures.
I layered up today though. Put on the boots that I never wear, and ventured out into the cold.
On Christmas day.
For a walk.
Teeny would be so proud. She’s always telling me I need to get out more in the winter time. And I’m always telling her that I would, if it wasn’t so damn cold out.
I walked down the bridge outside my house, and took some pictures of the creek frozen over.
There was a little family out on the lake. Walking around on the ice. They had a little boy who couldn't have been more than 2 or 3. He had a new sled, and his parents were pulling him around on it. He was squealing in excitement.
And my heart ached a little. Because that’s what Christmas should be all about. Rejoicing in the shrieks of your children. In their joys and excitements regarding the magic of this time of year.
I trudged back up the trail heading home. Trying to take in the beauty of this white Christmas.
Because I really do live in an absolutely gorgeous state. And there really is something incredible about having a white Christmas.
Something beautiful that I never got to experience before I moved here.
And now, I am back inside my warm house. Curled up under the covers about to watch a movie and wondering if pizza places deliver on Christmas. Realizing that my reprieve from the world is going to be over in a few days, and I’m going to have to wake up at a reasonable hour and go to work and deal with the life outside my bed.
I’m OK with that though. This last few days have been exactly what I’ve needed. Exactly what the doctor ordered.
Time. Just time. To be sad, and angry, and cry. Time to throw things and act like a royal brat. Time to express my distaste for this entire situation to the man above.
Time to grieve.
And starting Monday, it will be time to heal. To rebuild. To move forward.
To come to terms with the fact that there are some things in this life I simply have no control over.
I hope you are all having an unforgettable Christmas. Making memories that will last a lifetime. Spending the day with those who love you, and those whom you love back.
I hope Christmas is proving to be just what the doctor ordered for you too.
And if you're really lucky; I hope you've been blessed with a white one as well.
