Demolition Day

I was hoping to meet my goal of posting a new blog post at least once a month. With the month quickly drawing to a close, I didn’t expect this to be my catalyst. They cancelled my vaccine shot. Less than 24 hours before it was supposed to happen, I got an email saying it was cancelled. To say I was devastated is an understatement. It was their stupid screw up, but it dropped me to my knees. The hope that had finally begun to take root was ripped out from within me with what felt like wolverine claws. 

I called the location with dogged determination, until I had a human on the line. The poor girl on the other side knew what was coming. I could hear it in her fearful voice when she answered after a brief hold. I let her have it anyway. I knew it wasn’t her fault. I knew she had no control to change a thing, but in my broken state, she was the only voice I had to hear my pleas. I did apologize and eventually behaved more like the person I want to be, rather than the one that was lashing out in pain. Perhaps because of my pleas, or maybe in spite of them, she put me on a waiting list. Their screw up even made the state nightly news. I wasn’t the only one rocked by the scheduling nightmare. It was a location change. Instead of rolling all the appointments over to the new location, it became a new slot free for all. Mom is now scheduled for March 22 at the original site. In the time it took me to realize I had such a monumental email in my inbox, every available spot within a 100 mile radius until April was taken. The closest time and location for me was for March 23, in Claremont, NH, 2 and a half hours away. I was crushed.

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By the time I got off the phone, all the pain of the last year came crashing down around me. I sobbed. I cried for the time that had been lost, for the missed visits with loved ones, for the friends I’d lost over the last year, and for those lost that I never knew. I cried for the heart aches so many of my friends seem to be up against right now. I cried for my body that has suffered with the lost time and lack of treatment. I cried for my mom and for the pain of being a caregiver, and that I needed to be one. It was a long time coming. A dam of tears can grow big in a year.

​The tears eventually subsided, but the emotional hangover was still hanging in the air palpably. How do you find hope again when you finally acknowledge the grief that is overwhelming you?

For me, it started with going outside with the dogs. Cold air and happy dogs, will at least get your heart beating again. Then came Brene’ Brown on the Audible, and she offered a perspective on loss I needed to hear. Eventually, I allowed myself to just breathe.
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The truth is, sometimes you need to fall before you can get back up again. I needed to fall apart. It was the first step in being able to put myself together again. For the last few months, I knew my grip had been weakening. I tried to force myself to hold on, and to be positive. The holidays offered a distraction and a temporary goal. With the holidays past, I struggled for hope to cling to. For me, the vaccine became my hope. It offered the promise of so much in one little shot. I sunk every bit of hope I had into that promise. When that was taken from me, my weary grip gave way. 
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​My efforts to cling on with my feeble grip was like putting patches, tarps and buckets over and under a leaky roof. It may help in the short term, but it doesn’t solve the problem. The only real solution is to repair the roof, and sometimes that means ripping what is there back to the rafters and starting over.

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​Beautiful homes can be created when the broken and weary parts are torn away and new is created in its place. But in order to do that, you first have to do the demolition work. Brene’ Brown reminded me that the mess is part of the process. We try so hard to avoid the messy, dark and broken parts of life, but the only way to really change and fix them is to face them, name them and address them. 

There is a lot of work to do. For now, I plan to keep all the diagnostic tests that were so carefully scheduled for February 17th at Dartmouth, even without the vaccine. I cannot face and do all I need to until I can physically feel better myself. That is the first step. I can only pray I will stay healthy until and after those appointments.

​Ironically, that will be the same day Kari will have her back surgery that they just scheduled today. To make matters worse, Kari's fiancé, Pat, just learned he was exposed to a co-worker that has tested positive for Covid, so he is now quarantining and will be tested on Sunday. And Jeffrey is dealing with some old injuries that are now demanding attention, as well.

​There is a lot to be strong for.

But a house is not renovated in a day. For now, I will focus on creating a plan for rebuilding my emotional strength, much as the builder renovates step by step. I am prepared to do the hard work. I will find my feisty again. But for today, I’m going to rest in the understanding that it’s ok to be emotionally spent. This year has taken an enormous toll on everyone. We have all been emotional warriors. But our bodies require rest, and so does our spirit. ​

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My search for daily sparkle has lead to empty pages. Rather than leave the spots blank as reminders of days without sparkle, I have decided to make them pages for sparkle and/or gratitude. I may not always find sparkle, but I can always find something to be grateful for.

​Sometimes, that is enough. ​

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