Tuesday, April 23, 2013

The Hallway is Hell

I had a brainstorm last night before bed, so I was up until almost midnight. I got all kinds of ideas for Horizon Peak. And e-books. And some new graphic design skills I'd like to acquire. Because you know, I don't have enough going on every day, right?

Anyway, I was up too late last night, so I was dragging this morning. Multiple cups of coffee later, I was buzzing along at work. I am backing up multiple people this week, so I had to lead a call this morning on behalf of a colleague. It was supposed to be an hour long -- and I think I wrapped it up at about 12 minutes. I have become a ridiculously fast talker as I've gotten older. Not fast in speech, but fast in thought -- I don't need a lot of verbiage to convey my message. Though I suppose that could have come from being a copywriter for 13 years, too...

I have always wanted to be a speaker or workshop leader of some kind, but my brain doesn't lend itself well to that. I can't stretch things out. And then there's the whole fear of public speaking thing.

I had a great conversation with a client today, too, about some new work. I may talk fast, but when I am excited about a topic and really knowledgeable about it, I can really infect others with my enthusiasm. That's what makes me a great salesperson -- simply expressing my love for a product. I can't sell ice to Eskimos like my father-in-law can, but darn it I can sell things I love. I'm thrilled to say that this particular client was a happy camper when I got off the phone with her. I feel very good that this project will happen.

Speaking of talking, I have started seeing a counselor again. Jeremy and I both are big proponents of counseling. Counseling saved our marriage, got Jeremy through depression, and last year it gave us tools to get through our grief in a healthy way. You all know I have my good days and my bad -- but in the last couple of months I've been feeling more anger than sadness as I process my grief. I know what to do with anxiety and sadness, but I don't know what to do with anger. So I started seeing a counselor to help me get the tools to deal with this particular phase of the grief process.

And that's all my anger is, according to my new counselor. A part of my grieving process. One more thing I need to work through as I heal. And it's totally natural, totally normal, and totally process-able. Whew.

She told me something today that I'm going to remember forever. "They tell you that when God closes a door, He opens a window. What they don't tell you is that the hallway is hell."

Yeah, it's hell. I know there's a light at the end of this tunnel, blessings on the way, an open window ahead. But this meantime, this path between points, this hallway is hell. Thank God I've got people holding my hands as I walk it.

2 comments:

  1. I totally understand what you mean. After I lost Fer, I was talking with a friend that lost her sister very unexpectedly at a very young age. She told me she only wanted time to go faster. To be asleep for 5 years, and having been through all the process. I feel the same. I know I´ll be happy again, I know I´ll be able to look at a picture of him without feeling totally crushed. But meanwhile, man! it hurts.

    Thank you as always for your words.

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    Replies
    1. Yes, Mariana! I feel the same way. I still can't look at pictures of my daughter without crying.

      When it first happened, I just wanted the first year to be over. I knew after the first year, I wouldn't have any more "firsts" without her. And indeed, after the first anniversary of her death, I DID feel different. Not better or worse, just different. Like I had reached a goal, I guess. I made it through.

      But year 2 is bringing its own challenges. Someone once told me that the first year, you mourn for all the things your loved one won't get to do -- and the second year, you mourn for all the things YOU don't get to do with them. I can agree it is a different type of mourning now.

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