This week has been challenging. The photo project completed in the wee hours of the morning, because insomnia and all that.
March and early April were filled with avoidance of the emotional aspect of what was happening. While I certainly had physical response to everything, I threw up more times than I care to count in March as I was physically repulsed by the letting go.
I also was more social than usual, far more social. This week was the first week where I started to withdraw from that.
This is not to say that I have avoided people as I did in the depths of depression rather I have selectively chosen to withdraw as I navigated the emotions of detaching from photos, objects that at one time carried feelings, and let go of a life that is no longer mine.
Amidst this, I reached out to a friend to see if they would be interested in paddling this weekend and I got a lengthy response back about how I had not been a supportive friend.
I responded back with as much grace as I could muster even though I had literally been crying in the middle of my floor moments before. I left the ball in their court about whether they would reach out again yet after sitting with that for a few days.
After a few days of considering their text, I realize that if they do reach out I probably will not respond as someone who cannot see the weight that I have carried on my shoulders was so great that I was not myself is probably not someone I need in my life.
I am a pretty optimistic person, but with that comes the balance, the balance is the tears. To feel joy, we must also know great sorrow. I am fairly in tune with my body, knowing what it needs and when. I feel this truly, but I have also been told this by friends who seem to think it is a good quality.