I feel like this blog has become kind of boring... more a vessel to share information, and less of a place where I share myself. I don't know why exactly, or what it means for the future of this space, but I hope I can get back to sharing emotions and not just listing off what's happening next.
Maybe it's that we've had so many events, and there isn't time for both. I mean, I have become this business person, promoting the foundation, drumming up interest in our myriad of events.
Yes, I want to be doing that, but it's not all I am... maybe it's been a good place to hide so I don't have to think too hard about what I am really feeling. It's easier to just jump from event to event and keep on truckin'...
I am recognizing that the work we do with the foundation takes an emotional toll on me. I want it all to be perfect, and to represent Shannon in the best way possible. That's a lot of pressure - self induced - and things don't always go as planned, and then I take it personally.
I guess this winter has been a good reminder that I need to reserve some space for myself, emotionally... it can't be all about Shannon, or Erin or Dan for that matter. I know as a wife and a mother, I am not the only one who feels this from time to time...
It has been helpful this week to get back to exercising and playing tennis with my girlfriends. Last week I got the clearance from my surgeon to go back to regular activity. So, I am diving right in, playing tennis three times this week!
But, I still have this thing nagging at me - don't quite know what it is. Sometimes my brain gets in the way. I want to understand what I am feeling, instead of just feeling it. It's hard to articulate...
But here's my dime store analysis: all the positive feedback we've received has been amazing. Our events this year were bigger successes than the year before, and it culminates with giving out scholarships this weekend. But having such positivity feels strange. All of this stuff - all of my efforts this winter - stem from the fact that Shannon died. I can't - and don't want to - ever move past that fact.
A friend passed along a NY Times column a while back about grief called Getting Grief Right. It touched a chord with me, the idea that we want people to see that we are "doing really well" and that we "seem to be moving on". And yet, all the pressure to make our grief lessen over time isn't always the reality. What if it's harder in year three than it was in year two? What does that mean?
Now, I can only speak for me, but that's been true. I am feeling tapped out. There are also some extenuating circumstances in my case. Much emotional and physical pain over the past few months with my dad's health and my own surgery.
And, I am now in surgically induced menopause... any woman who has been there can tell you that's no picnic on the emotional front. Their spouses might have a thing or two to say about that as well!
So, I guess I need a break from "doing" and allow myself time and space for the "feeling".
But first, one more event on Saturday...
