What’s the Point of Going On?

I haven’t posted much to the blog in a long time.  Bella’s dying and death were difficult and full of conflict, complicated by the older traumas they triggered.  It was hard to write when I was depressed.  A lot of energy went into taking care of Bella, and finding support people for myself.  A lot of daily chores, like dealing with the mail, and personal care things, like doing laundry and washing my hair, got pushed to the end of the list.  I also spent a lot of time working on puzzles and playing solitaire, hoping that that distraction for my neocortex would help me integrate the losses.  Typing journal into the computer really got difficult when I got to the week she died.  I usually try to stay no more than a month behind.          — Who cares about this?  What’s the point of going on?  —   Those questions have come up a lot recently.  We even sang a hymn (written in 1988) that expressed doubt about god.  “The poor suffer, the rich thrive … Is god alive?  Does god care?”  It really expressed how I was feeling.

Barry’s sermon today was on strength and persistence.  Stories from the Bible, and from people he knows, who persisted and used strength to get what they want.  Makes me feel lazy and weak and guilty.  Clearly I think I should be pushing myself harder to “get things done.”  And I’m not doing it.  I haven’t pushed myself to walk alone, I haven’t pushed myself to sort out mail or balance my checkbook.  I have pushed myself to keep calling friends for help.  I did push myself yesterday to see Pat — which was a mixed bag — and to drive to Lyndonville to do “Break the Chain.” That felt good but I only got to do it once and was intimidated by all the stylish women with high heels and makeup.

Pat is a good friend, she’s very supportive and I feel safe with her.  But she talked about “disciplining herself to get things done,” and she also talked about how easy cooking can be.  Unfortunately, those particular issues are very difficult for me.  I suspect my difficulty is related to my trauma, but don’t know exactly the mechanism.  This makes it hard to validate myself.

I’m seeing that another thing that made yesterday difficult was that I called a friend for help and never heard from her.  I wish I weren’t so sensitive to that sort of thing.

Yes, I do think I have used strength and persistence in the service of my healing.  What’s confusing is that letting myself rest, letting myself off the hook, not pushing myself is also part of my healing.  It’s a very tricky balance.

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