But Sometimes I Still Do

This month I've had seven posts in the first twelve days. Now I've gone silent for nearly a week. So, I've felt compelled to make a quick note to ensure everyone that I'm okay.

I had a very dark time last week. As I stated previously, my body healed enough to permit my brain to process and take on the emotions of my recent life-change. And that became far more overwhelming than I expected. That flood of emotion coupled with a difficult time planning my daughter's schedule for the weekend sparked an ugly exchange between her mother and me. This further plummeted my spirits.

However, I have been blessed with a wonderful and supportive family, but also a group of level-headed, compassionate friends who have advised me well in the last few days. I did as I said in my last post and formed an accountability group - a small circle of friends with whom I share uninhibited honesty about what I'm feeling and experiencing. Trusting this group, I share internal turmoil I would not want aired publicly, and this allows me an avenue to move the troubling thoughts out of my head and into an "emotional cache" where I can better cope.

So, a lot of my introspective time over the past week has been spent writing things to this group and talking on the phone with its members. It also allows me to have more appropriate things to discuss here without the pressure of revealing details probably not best shared in such an open forum.

I told someone earlier that my life recently had just been hell. Because of a good weekend and feeling like I've started to get my footing on life again, I was able to joke that the hell I've been going through however happened to be air-conditioned with ample food, convenient transportation, intermissions with entertaining sporting events and movies, and of course the comfort of good companions. So, while I still claim my physical and emotional recovery have been quite painful, I am quite fortunate.

The title to the post is, of course, a reference to the Joe Walsh song, "Life's Been Good So Far" in which he says, "I can't complain, but sometimes I still do." I'm not out of the forest yet. There are still a few emotional predators and pit-fall traps of insecurity that I must still overcome before returning safe from the wilderness of grief.

But I have a plan and a course of action to take. I will not lay down in the woods and die of shame. And life will be good again.