I have had many people comment that I am so brave for the way I have been going through the loss of my fiancé. But that never felt true for me, I wasn't being brave, what choice did I have? If I could have changed it, you know I would. So I have just been living through it. But this, this now feels like I am being brave, because as I sit in the Sydney airport waiting for my flight to Byron Bay, that I just booked 10 minutes ago, all of me wants to go to Air Canada and get back on the 19 hour flights home. Why, why do I do this to myself? A part of me knows taking a month long trip to Australia by myself is the exact right step for me, but for the last two days I can't connect to that part. Since the morning of my departure I have felt off. I cried most of the day, I was sad to leave my puppy, scared to go alone, and anytime I do something new my ache for Rene goes through the roof. I have learnt to navigate some of my day-to-day without the gut wrenching pain I experienced in the earlier months. But why the hell would I think eight months after his death and the subsequent shattering of my world, would be a good time to head out solo, no plan, no agenda, just a ticket to Australia?
I'm really asking? Haha but as I ask it, I for a moment find it comical. The thing is there would have been no changing my mind anyways, so here I am.
I used to love airports. They were so exciting, full of energy, people loving and hugging; welcoming loved ones. Even the sadness of seeing people say goodbye, I loved it all, I enjoyed the buzz. But now, now it is all a reminder of the man I said goodbye to. I see Rene in everything, in the adorable couple sitting across from me on the shuttle, that would have been us. As I try to navigate my way around, it reminds me of our trip to N.Y.. We got lost all the time, but he was good at getting us back on track, plus being ‘lost’ with your best friend is still fun, and now I do it alone. Like ALONE, not just alone for the moment, but like I'll never see him or go on a trip with him again kind of alone.
I believe that doing this painful shit is the only way to one day live a full life again. It would be way easier to never do the things that make me hurt this way. But with everything I'd give up my world would get smaller and smaller. So as brutal as it is, I really have no choice. I don't want to live in fear of bringing up the hurt for the rest of my life. So I must face it, be brave and go through it as it arises. I hope my theory holds true and one day I will get on a plane and not see him holding my travel documents as he always did. That I will sit in my seat and not ache for him to be sitting beside me, to be traveling with me. That one day I won't be a big emotional sad mess. That one day, like the old days, I will enjoy things again.
This is really the jump out of the airplane and hope your parachute opens way of growing. I know that I need to do these things alone, again and again and again, until I am clear. I would love to go with someone, but need to make sure they are not my safety blanket. I don't want to substitute the pain with someone. They will never really be able to mend the wound, they will just be a bandaid and I will be stuck in a dangerous loop of needing others to make me feel OK. I would need someone, my sense of self would depend on them, dangerous, very dangerous. While this is rough right now, I am learning I can handle it on my own. In that, I will be free to love others, to share my life with them, but not need them to feel complete. The truth is I am fine, this trip is a privilege, the circumstances around it are fucked up, but I am safe, in a beautiful country, and I know I'll be ok; I have done this before.
I was 17 and going to travel Europe alone. I still look back at that trip and cannot believe I did that. I remember times of being so homesick and wanting to leave, but I stayed and it taught me I can do it. So here I am again, scared, homesick, looking for the easy way out, and thinking of catching the next flight home.
But if I do that what will have changed? I won't have evolved like I know I am meant to. I will be giving into the pain, and I have come to know that there is a tremendous amount of life in pain, it's not to be denied. I write instead, to clear the energy and talk myself off the ledge. To trust the part of me that knew this was the right time for this trip.
One day I will look back at this year and will not believe I lived through all that I have. Day by day I am living it, not just surviving. I know this, because surviving would be much easier, this way is bloody hard.
I guess the next post will either be from Byron Bay... Or home?!?