
Finding Light
The last 12 months or so have proven to be filled with loss. An enormous amount of loss. Some self imposed, some as consequence, and some, well most, unexpected and irreversible.
My marriage dissolved to a point where neither one of us was recognizable any longer. We existed in the same space, but shared nothing. The divorce was shocking and painful, as they always are, and I found myself in a constant state of disbelief. How did we end up here? How is it that the man I thought I’d grow old with and fuss over grandchildren with is no longer in my life? How is it that we both didn’t fight like hell to hold on? That loss was the catalyst to the downfall.
I’ve heard others say, “ I feel adrift” or “I’m at a loss” but never gave much thought to how that must actually feel. To feel a loss of purpose, a loss of safety, of self, of identity, of all the things I know and am comfortable with, to be completely and utterly in the dark was shocking and terrifying. Every single day was shocking and terrifying and filled with overwhelming anxiety. I was in the same world but nothing felt or looked the same anymore. Friends I’d held for a lifetime didn’t reach out to offer an ear to listen or a hand to hold. I hold absolutely no ill will because in all honesty, would I have done the same? Who is to say who should reach out and when and do you have to choose sides when you’re friends with both people? Is there a grace period of mourning where you allow someone to grieve their loss and adjust to their new life? There isn’t, to my knowledge, one right answer. I can only say that in my case, that period of time was very isolating and forced me to create a new life because my old one was most definitely over.
Navigating new territory took time, but I slowly learned to adjust. The loss of friends (or not loss really, but physical absence) happened at the same time so it was a band-aid ripped off. I had to deal with them simultaneously so separating the sense of loss between the marriage and friends wasn’t necessary. They were stacked on top of each other so deciphering which felt worse was impossible.
The next was my son leaving for college. He had been living with his Dad and going to school in another state, but that didn’t feel like so much of a loss because he was still living with family and seeing my family. We were still connected. His adventure of going to university on an island is one I’m so glad he endeavored to take on. In my excitement there was also a nagging sense of loss which took some time to sort out. He was truly on his own. He didn’t have family around him. He didn’t have other people surrounding him who would literally take a bullet for him. He would be exposed to other people, cultures, mind sets and there was no way to ensure that all of those outside influences would be positive. What if he was bullied or put into dangerous situations or felt alone and didn’t know how to reach out? My fears, in hindsight of course, were my fears for myself as well. He and I were both marching into new territory. My anxiety lessened with each posted picture of him smiling, laughing, surrounded by friends, and looking truly happy. This was the first glimmer of light.
The next two losses occurred in close succession, the first was the loss of a boss. He had become a trusted mentor to me, an advisor, a confidant, and a friend. In all fairness, he was promoted so the loss, for him, was a positive event. I felt horrible and selfish that my joy for his hard work recognized was always followed with a feeling of being left behind; no longer needed. The following upheaval and wave after wave of change only added to the roiling sense unease and isolation that was becoming a cloak slowing erasing me. Soon after, I lost my friend and a Captain, a leader at the facility. I’ve written of her loss and how devastating it was, how sorrowful it still makes me feel.
In fairness, even though my boss was no longer my boss, he remains my friend, as he said he would. This was the second glimmer.
In the following weeks I had an opportunity to apply for a promotion. While I wasn’t ultimatley chosen for the position, it afforded me the opportunity to prepare my presentation for the selection board. I had to state my accomplishments, justify each statement with facts and evidence and something truly unexpected happened. I saw myself and my accolades and started to believe in myself again. Again, being honest, being selected would have been wonderful, but it wasn’t in the cards for me, and that was ok. After finding out that I had been passed over, I looked over my presentation again. Where had I failed? In that moment, for the first time in longer than memory serves, I felt that I succeeded. My set of skills just wasn’t the right fit for that position, but my skills were there in front of me. Laid out in a long list that made me realize my value. The light shined brighter…
Everyday I’m tasked with new responsibilities, some familiar and some completely new, and I embrace each one. I know I can handle the challenges. The feelings of loss and isolation slowly ebb with each day. At times, they threaten to work their way back over me; when I face set backs or struggle in managing relationships.
When I see the darkness try to edge in on me I just take a moment to breathe …and focus on light.
