sitting...

Sitting…crossed legged…staring right in front of me…waiting for something to happen. My site is clearly a blur and there is little noise…just the buzzing of stale air around me. Why am I still sitting? I cannot seem to come to a slow crawl and when I think I have that momentum to lift myself up to do so, something else reminds me I need to sit back down. It happens that way…in waves…I think I am a pretty strong person but am reminded by my surroundings that I am as fragile as a wilted leaf hanging on for dear life half way through the fall season. I am in the midst of my fall.

The month of November is already here. Can I say it? I hate November. I hate it with every ounce of my being. Tomorrow is John’s 29^th birthday, the 12^th will be the one year anniversary of his passing, the 15^th was the day of the funeral, and the 17^th will be my 28^th birthday. What a great time to celebrate isn’t it? What is the point really? Is there one? As each day passes with the different distractions of my responsibilities and life in general, the anxiety seems to build on top of itself and I realize the next few weeks will feel impossible. Overly dramatic? Maybe…but it is exactly how I feel in this moment. I want to close my eyes, cover my ears and act like it is not happening.

I do not doubt the progress I have made and what I should or should not feel day to day…because I just let it happen and come to me as those emotions arise. It is an odd rollercoaster to be on because when I have hit the top of the hill, I feel as though I am moving forward and looking into a pleasant future. Before I know it, I have hit the immediate descent and all I want to do is get off, but I am stuck. I cannot get off the ride, I cannot scream as the wind rushes in my face, and I cannot breathe. There is no excitement…only weightlessness.

What reminded me of that weightlessness was watching the movie 50/50 a few weeks ago. I was fortunate enough to have amazing friends go with me and hold my hand through it all. The young diagnosis, the vomiting, the doctor visits, and many parts of the journey were very similar to John’s. The part of the movie that was almost too much to handle was towards the end. The main character was going into surgery the next day to remove the tumor. He had an absolute moment of panic in a car, so much so, he began to beat the steering wheel with his fists. He was screaming at the top of his lungs in agony and frustration in wonderment of surviving through it all the next day. It was the hardest part of the movie to watch. I will never forget those same moments with John…watching him break down not knowing what day would be his last and wondering “why him?” This happened a few times…all of which I experienced along with him. There was never a time in which we did not share these same frustrations and same breaking points. The only way to release all of that frustration and pain was to scream…and scream we did.

It has never made sense to me and even a year later, it still doesn’t. Someone so perfect, so beautiful, fought for his life. A slow, agonizing fight and we are all left here to miss him every single day. Is it weird I think about him every other minute? Still…every other minute. I still have photos of the two of us all over my desk at work and in my home…photos of us smiling, of his penetrating blue eyes and his wonderfully simple smile. Is it weird I cry almost every night? Still…almost every night I sit there, my head in my hands and cry. I want nothing but rest…have my mind stop going a million miles a minute full of anxious thoughts of the coming days…to sleep a full night without waking up and reaching out in the bed next to me. Is it weird I still dream about him? Still…I hear his voice in my dreams like he never left.

With all these emotions and with some progress, though small, it is still progress…I am still sitting. I cannot wait to come to a crawl or even walk again because I can see that day coming. It may be far into the future, but I can still see it. This blog will soon turn into more of what that journey is like and less about the pain. I can see the transition coming…I cannot wait. But for right now, this first anniversary of his birthday and his passing, I am okay with sitting…I am okay with the constant thoughts of him…I am okay with the crying and sleepless nights…I am okay.

As always…thank you to my family and friends for the absolute patience you have shown me. I used to be really good at pushing people away and I am sure I still will in the next few weeks, but since trying to come back around, I am still greeted with open arms and love. So, I thank all of you.

And even more so, I thank John. Happy birthday tomorrow my dearest love and soul mate. How did I get so lucky to find you and to have you love me? I will never understand why someone like you loved me so much and fought so hard to spend that one extra day here on earth, but I am so thankful for your fight. Thank you for teaching me to be patient with myself and others…even this past year without you here I have learned this more than ever. I miss you and I love you sweet man…so much.