Learning Leaps

There are things I used to do in my life before Edmond and I were partners. I was quite capable of managing household finances, saving money, applying for loans, buying a house and a car. I changed lightbulbs, negotiated a better price, planned and took my children on vacations, juggled work and children, fixed things that broke or called a repair person. I managed our health care and paid bills. I learned about the legal system as it pertains to divorce in the state of Texas, and now know more than I would like to about how it works and doesn’t work. 

I have worked with homeless youth, families in crisis, and single parent/grandparent families. Then I was a grant writer for these same populations and programs. When I divorced, I reinvented myself and my career when I started my own business in 2003. It worked best for me as a single parent when I could have a standing 3pm meeting with the school bus and work with clients around my children’s schedule. I figured out health insurance as a sole proprietor of my own company. I put my house on the market, packed it all up, bought a new house in a new land, and moved us to the home where we still live. I know about small and big remodels, and who I will hire again and who I will never hire again. I know how to deal with a multitude of crises (medical, mental health, and otherwise) and who to call and what to do at the various intervals. 

Some learning curves I have used again, and some I hope I never use again—this current one included. I am happy to share my experience with others moving through similar territory. My experience and way is not the only way, nor is it the best way. In fact, sometimes, the most beneficial experiences I can share are what not to do. 

The first time we do a hard thing is usually the hardest. Learning leaps are painful and messy, and leave bruises and scars. Starting again is occasionally the best option, particularly when we jump in a direction that is not actually a resource for our situation. It is helpful to come back to the familiar curve in the road, where we have worn the path down a bit or perhaps laid down some skid marks and do not enter signs.

Learning one new thing at a time is easier than learning seventeen new things all at once. I am, to the best of my ability, finding comfort in the things I know how to do and adding one new thing or one piece of one new thing at a time. It is a way through. 

In the midst of an unimaginable moment, I try to slow down, take stock of what I know and can do so I can find room to fold in new information or skills. Sometimes I can, and sometimes I cannot.

I Can Remember How to Pay Bills and Do Financial Things: During the credit card debacle of last week, I lost my temper with the less than compassionate, totally robotic man-child I spoke with last weekend who could not or would not answer any of my questions. He stonewalled me, refused to respond with anything helpful, and was ill-equipped in dealing with a frustrated customer. Perhaps, he and I both have some things to learn. 

I let myself off the hook for my behavior that did not get me what I wanted. Then, I remembered to take a break so I could settle down and figure out the most important things first. I moved all our essential bills (electricity/cell phone/internet) to autopay on an active account. It was a relief to have the major categories of daily living regulated again. 

A few days later, when I was less fearful and frustrated, I spoke with a more informed and compassionate human at the credit card company. I suppose it is possible she responded better to me because I was less agitated. Regardless, she explained the situation, letting me know that for now, because I was not the primary card holder, the account is frozen. No interest or late fees will occur. Only when I want to “service” the account (which I found out means to pay the balance) will I need to show proof that I am the executor of Edmond’s estate. 

My decision was easy. This balance we owe is now moved to the bottom of my priority list. They will get paid when I have other things of greater significance in order. Everything else on that card is non-essential. I will either let it go or update my form of payment when notified. Now that I consider it, Netflix feels kind of essential. And, I opened a new line of credit with another company in case of emergency.  

I Can Understand New Systems: I try to accomplish at least one to two things each day related to Edmond’s death and our lives without him. It was on my list to reach out directly to the medical examiner’s office to see if I could get a little more information regarding a time line on when the autopsy report will be complete. The possibility of having to wait six months had suddenly begun to feel unreasonable. But, before I could call them, they called me. It was weird and easy. 

The woman from the medical examiner’s office called to ask for some more information to help them complete their report. She requested some family history and the name of Edmond’s primary care physician. I provided both. I asked her about the time line, and she let me know it could take up to 90 days. Three months maximum seems like a much more acceptable time frame, especially since the report could arrive sooner. So, we should have some cause of death and a final report by July 4th. When I asked about a partial report on anything they may have discovered, she explained the system to me. In my case, the completed report, when the case is closed, will come from our local justice of the peace. This was already my understanding based on an early conversation with the judge in my town. However, the woman explained that because the death was sudden and no cause was apparent when it occurred, it is an open case. Until it is closed, it is not actually public record yet. (The judge very well could have conveyed all of this about the case being open, but at that point a few weeks ago, I had no capacity to receive the details. I needed to hear it again.) This all made sense to me. I had capacity to ask better questions and receive more information. And, I appreciate understanding the system another layer deep. It gives me patience and a more reasonable time frame.

My Basic Knowledge of Physics and Ability to Follow Directions is a Major Resource: I check our rain tank gages often. It is how we monitor our water use, indulge in a bath or long shower, or choose to take the quick shower. Edmond definitely still holds the record for the shortest yet entirely thorough shower.

A week or so ago, when I was walking the dogs, I noticed that the tank that fills our pool was more than half full. Today, when I was walking the dogs, I noticed it had dropped significantly. So, I went to check things out. Seeing that the pool was nearly filled to the brim, I called Scott, my friend and rainwater system expert. I followed his instructions over the phone, and we determined that the autofill device was not functioning properly. He helped me locate the correct valve inside the pump house so I could shut it off manually. The pool part is still under warranty, and I can call the installer another day. For now, we are not losing any more water.  

I Can Survive Panic Attacks: Anxiety and panic are not unfamiliar to me. I have, over time, come to expect some amount of anxiety and panic to present itself in certain circumstances that are part of a pattern connected to trauma. I also know that these emotions are part of grieving. 

Self-care including eating nutritious food, getting adequate sleep, moderate exercise, and not taking in too much alcohol or caffein help regulate anxiety. Taking certain supplements or other medications can also support our systems in distress. Friends, counselors, and therapists can be  an important part of our support system. 

When the afternoon panic sets in these days related to the absence of Edmond in all the places he used to be, I use my support systems. I know I do not have to do it alone.

The other day when I knew there was no stopping the volcanic eruption of emotions and overwhelm coming up from my belly and into my throat, I texted a friend to tell her what was happening. I told her that I was okay, I just needed another person on the planet to know. I took two natural supplements that work for me, and I was able to find my breath. I knew I would take something more powerful that night when I did not have to drive anywhere so I could sleep.

I also plan to have these terrifying moments each day. If I don’t, then lucky me. I manage my days knowing when the free spaces will occur so I know where and when I can release tears, sobs, anger, and fear. Holding these things in is not a way through. 

I Can Reinvent My Life Again: I mean, I am no Madonna, but I have shifted gears and made hairpin turns when necessary. Being in the clarity of the present moment and allowing the horizon to remain a blur, I remind myself to only take the next step available. Sometimes, that means staying still, not moving forward yet. There are days when reinventing my life feels impossible. There are days I am pissed off that I must take a new step, and sometimes I refuse and resist. My stubborn serves me. It tells me I am out of juice for the day or hour. 

Resistance is part of our way through. It will teach me to perhaps invent a life that is down shifted, again. I down shifted when I moved to Wimberley from the suburbs of Houston. I craved and required less have-to in any given day. Edmond and I intentionally kept it as simple as possible with five children. Life creeps in and kids have their own agendas, so of course there were waves of too-busy. During the first year or so of COVID, we really turned the volume down. It was lovely. And, in the last year or two, kids and their agenda encouraged more calendar activity. 

In this moment, I am simplifying in new ways out of both necessity and desperation. There are a lot of yeses, especially for the two children still at home: baseball (and more baseball games/ practices/ books/ movies/ articles/ history/ pro-games) and art (and more art and music lessons and experiences/ supplies/ materials/ creative time/ messy experiements). 

However, my previous energy levels and capacity to say yes and do one more thing is waning. I want to leave myself more space that will not be filled. And the space is terrifying. The nothingness of not doing without an Edmond could be a black hole of panic. It is another paradox of grieving.

For the last year or so, Fridays have been that space for me. I suppose, I might want more if I can swing it. Filling up all the space does not leave room for what might need tending. Edmond used to make fun of my resistance to being at a place at a time that was not at least in part my choice. Regular schedules that were repeated on a weekly basis often feel monotonous and oppressive to me. I love to change things up, move the furniture into a new position, paint walls a new color, and do work in a new location or way. I am grateful for my work and passions and that my client work is constantly transforming me, my clients, and the way the work happens.

In a world that is largely linear and scheduled, reinventing a life that moves through liminal time more beckons me. Being counter-cultural and moving against the status quo of time feels powerfully rebellious. It is a place to put my anger, quite frankly. I do not know what it will look like in a week or a month or a year from now. I do know I want more time with the birds, sitting in the sun, watching the rain fall and river flow, and knowing the moon and stars more intimately.