I just drove home from Ewa Beach, and I didn’t spend the entire car ride talking to someone on the phone. I did, however, spend the entire car ride off-and-on uncontrollably crying.
I’ve been thinking a lot over the past week about how I feel. How I really, truly feel. Because sooner rather than later, what everyone else feels will start to influence how I feel. I hate to admit it, but I consult a wide variety of people, and those people’s perspectives often make their way into my perspective.
And the best way to explain how I truly feel is to describe it like losing an arm…
Because you naturally use your arm to do just about anything throughout your day. You reach for salt on the top shelf. You reach down to tie your shoes. You loop your purse around and carry all your bags. You never think about whether or not your arm will be there. It just is. It’s a part of you.
But what happens when it’s not… Because that’s how I’ve felt the past week.
The natural and normal piece of my life is no longer there. Not when I wake up, not when the kids are napping at school, not when I go to sleep. The things that go hand in hand, like driving and calling someone to talk on the phone, are no longer hand in hand. And so I feel like I’ve lost a part of me.
And as a result, I haven’t known how to function this past week. Simple, routine tasks are painful because they aren’t the same anymore. Driving home at night is terrifying because there’s no one on the phone with me to make sure I get home safe. Getting off of work and not receiving a celebratory “woo!” text message makes getting off of work so much less exciting. And a million other parts of my routine that I’ve developed over the past year to what was my new normal, are no longer part of my routine therefore my life has been extremely abnormal.
So it feels like I’ve lost an arm. And if anyone asks me, I will tell them I feel like I’ve lost an arm. And no one will understand and no one may relate to how I feel. But I know that is 100% how I truly and genuinely feel.