Sad, alone, scared

Seems more is coming out in pictures than in words lately. There is a part where I just have not had the words - whether it is because they just have not been there or they have disappeared. I have recently realized that there are times I don't want to find the words, avoidance at its best. Sometimes it is scary to have the words, to say them, to feel them, to see them.

So at the end of session on Friday, I made not that I was sad, yet I couldn't explain it. That one wasn't avoidance, I really didn't have the words and seeing it was the end of session, I wasn't at a place to go looking for them either. I was asked if I could draw it and later in the day would do that. Even though I did my best to put it on paper in picture, something in my mind was looking for the words and found something - words, feelings, emotions...something.

It's interesting that when I try to define "sad" it always includes "loss" and many times, that loss is Ali. Not to sound like my mom, yet I knew Ali loved me...unconditionally. She said it to be an ass and used it as a snide comment, "well, at least Ali loved me." Still kind of pisses me off when I say it. Poor Lora, last line in her infamous letter...."Tell Tobi [her Corgi] I miss him, at least he loved me."

Anyways, it is a given I miss Ali, miss her so bad. I wish I could explain it. It is far more than "I miss my dog" and more of I miss my friend, my buddy, my person that was there for 15 years through good, bad, and ugly. Although I know it is one of those "not necessarily true" things, she sure could make things better. I remember many times be so depressed and distraught and crawled up in bed or in a corner and she would come out of no where and curl up as close as she could to me. It was like the more I hurt, the closer and longer she sat. I wonder if anyone really understands the depth when I say I miss her. I still wonder if there could have been anything I could have done different to keep her here. I bargained for her life when she got hit by the car and I didn't think I had the right to do it again when she got sick. Maybe I messed up, maybe I should have, maybe she would still be here. When she got sick and I had to make that decision to put her down, I struggled with it. I thought, what if she could get better and then when I die, she would come up to me and say "mom, you killed me when I could have lived." She was so sick though, and in pain. She wasn't Ali, even as much as she kept trying to be. Although I know I made the right decision as to putting her down, maybe I should be afraid of her asking why I didn't fight for her. When I am sad, I miss Ali.

Today, Deb challenged me to try and draw alone and sacred. Again, more of no words and no wanting to find the words. I got out the pencils here at the end of work and tried to see what I could come up with. I drew, then flipped it over and started writing. And so I wrote....

Sometimes I feel very alone, as if almost transparent. Life is going on around me and I interact with it and yet I feel so separated from it. I feel empty inside like if you were to open me up it would be hollow, and that emptiness hurts.

Sometimes when you have a wound and air hits it, it stings really bad. That an idea of it If you were to open me up, the air hitting the emptiness in me would sting and burn. 

I get so lonely, it feels like everyone has someone, and I don't. I come home, I am alone. I have a victory, I cheer alone. I get sad, I am sad alone. Yes, my choice to be alone, yet it still hurts at times. I feel like this is my price I am paying for something  I did wrong, yet I don't know what it is so I can make it right. Even surrounded by so many, I am alone.

I sat for a while and then picked up another piece of paper. I still had to draw "scared" or what I could make come of it. I couldn't do it. My mind was tired and I couldn't go there. Not because I was avoiding, it just wasn't there. I have learned through the years not to go forcing things, that just sets off a bad domino effect. I sat with my paper, cup of pencils, and stared. Then, I drew.

Sometimes you find peace by going back to something you know. Simple things that you are familiar and feel safe with. Things that you knew you were good at and that as much as life may try, the memories cannot be taken away. Everyone should have a place, a moment, that is theirs. No matter what else may have been attached to it, there was a part of it that was theirs and theirs alone. It defined something about you, it gave you a reason to hang on, a light in a dark tunnel. Even if you find yourself in the "that was then, this is now" at least you are still willing to hang onto and fight for that "then" memories. And, in a moment you remember that you can still go there and find a bit of peace. Even if you have forgotten that it is an option, you can close your eyes and let your mind go there, and  you can breathe for a moment and smile for another. Yah, you have to open your eyes and come back to here and now, yet you had a minute or two. A brief moment that, even though you felt sad, alone, and scared, you had something to hang onto.