Week 3: Emotional ME

This week, I asked the group to take a photograph depicting an emotion. I've been saying from the start of this project, that I want the themes to stretch everyone. I've been saying that I want the themes to get us to step out of our comfort zone. I could have taken the easy road this week, but after reading the vulnerable, honest, and raw words of the other members, I realized there was a photo that I've been needing to take as a reminder of my past.

I don't go around telling everyone I meet about what happened to me in July 1998. When I do tell people for the first time, I have become accustomed to the way they gasp, their eyes big, their hands clutching at their chest, and their mouths wide. I wait awkwardly while they recover, and try to think of the "right" thing to say. I try to make the moment easier for them.

At the age of 25, I had finally found Doug. The man I loved, and who loved me. I was thrilled to be planning our wedding, and dreaming about what our life together would be like. Our love felt like a fairy tale, but what I learned that day in July was that our love story would end with far too few chapters and an ending that I had a hard time accepting. Doug was killed while riding his motorcycle, four days before our wedding.

In the beginning stage of grief, time is warped and cruel. You feel a bit as if you live on Mars... a day feels like several months. I looked forward to the evenings, when I could crawl into bed and escape to my dreams, where I dreamed of Doug and I and the adventures we were meant to go on. Waking up in the morning was torturous for a long time. As my eyes would flutter open, I would look around and realize where I was and that Doug was not with me, and never would be again. Then, I would cry. Crying got to be a part of my morning routine. When I finally went back to work, I had to schedule time for that part of my routine, much like showering or drying my hair. But, as cruel as time can be, it can also be quite miraculous. One day I woke up and I didn't cry... and then the days when I would cry became less and less frequent.

That was a long time ago, but there are mornings every once in a great while when I like to take a few extra minutes in the morning to just lay in bed, listening to my breath and feeling a smile form on my lips as I think of Jim and Dylan, and all the things in life I have to be thankful for. I think about how lucky I was to be loved by Doug, even for a short time. I think of how that experience has changed me. It made me realize the strength I have that I didn't even know existed. It made me realize what is truly important in this life, and the fragility of it. It made me appreciate the people I love in a way I never did before. It made me decide to end some relationships that I realized weren't worth my time, that is so precious. It made me want to enjoy life more, and stop putting things off. It made me want to make memories. It made me the ME I am today.