My wonderful husband died when I was 44 years old. Being widowed this young happens to less than 3% of married people. Writing through this loss one word at time helps me understand what I've lost and helps me continue to grow. It is how I have gradually recovered from such a severe loss.
Research shows that you can benefit from taking just 15 minutes a day to write out your deepest feelings as a way of healing. On the right side of this blog, you'll see a tag for Exercises to Try. If you need some help knowing how to use writing to help heal yourself, I suggest you start there.
1. Patient endurance, especially of pain or distress.
Feel like bursting out of my skin. Maybe I already have, And there's nothing left.
Can't stand it anymore This uncomfortable spot. Sometimes too cold, sometimes too hot.
How long do I have to live this way? How long must I wait? Itching. Painful. Sore. Edges raw. Healing takes infinitely longer Than I knew. But then, this is my first major catastrophe. It hurts everywhere I am exposed.
I'd give anything to be elbow to elbow with you again. In quiet consultation, head to head, Your steady hand on mine. Two worldviews meshing. The tight fit. The safe zone. Our place. The length of you covering the length of me.
No more.
Endurance. en·dur·ance
n.
1. The act, quality, or power of withstanding hardship or stress: A marathon tests a runner's endurance.
2. The state or fact of persevering: Through hard work and endurance, we will complete this project.
3. Continuing existence; duration.
But truthfully, and, also, I like myself. I love my kids. I like my house. I like this world. There's more to see. There's more to write. I still have an appetite.
