I'm not sure what it is exactly, but my shoulders (and my heart) are feeling the weight of the world right now. I'm sure it's a mixture of things - the time of year (I HATE April and can feel it breathing down my neck), the clouds in the sky, and maybe even it being my girly time - but it doesn't change it from feeling really, really crappy.
A lot of service members have died this week. Really, it's not anything new (disgustingly) but it seems that all of these stories are swirling around more than usual. I'm all for awareness, but sometimes my little heart can't handle all of it.
On the way home from school, safely hidden in my car, I cried to my iPod. I thought of the service members whose lives were cut too short, I thought of their mourning families, I thought of Cleve, I thought of me. For a moment I felt as though Cleve had just died. The emotions came flooding back and those questions I asked myself every second of every day right after he died were drowning my thoughts; Why him? Why me? Why war? Why god...why?
For a moment, I didn't see the point in life. I wondered, "...wouldn't it be easier to just... be with Cleve?" Of course, these thoughts were fleeting. I cherish the life I have. I know its worth. I know how precious my life is and I want to be here as long as I am supposed to be here. Still, would it not be easier to give up? To be done? To stop hurting? To see Cleve's face again? This living thing is hard. Sitting here, I cannot think of one aspect of it that is not hard work. Even on the sunniest of days or the quietest of moments, do we not have stress or hurt from something in our past? Are we not worrying about the future? About our weight? About who likes us and who doesn't? It's just so...hard. I sat there contemplating these things while listening to REM's "Everybody Hurts". Tears fell and my heart became even heavier as I passed the town Cleve is buried in.
The thing is - if I break everything down to the basics - life shouldn't be this difficult. It should be easy breezy. I get frustrated with myself when I feel I am getting caught in emotions that I've determined I've "figured out" already. We human beings are funny things. We love to blow things out of proportion and make a big production over small stuff. Each of us thinks our own life is the most important thing on the planet and surely what we are experiencing is worse than anyone else. It's irrational, yes, but sometimes there is just no controlling what our bodies will do. And sometimes my body - my brain - wants to be upset at everything and wants to pout. And as much as I try to fight it, and as much as I'd love to give myself a good slap to the face, I just have to let go and let it run it's little [frustrating] cycle.
I suppose "hurt" and "sadness" are aspects of being a human that I should just embrace. Fighting these things has never ended well for me, anyway.
So, I will shamefully pout in my bed and miss Cleve, I will eat boat loads of candy-canes because, for whatever reason, they are making me happy right now, and I will cuddle with my sweet boyfriend ("Cleve" and "boyfriend" in one sentence? That was weird. Oh my god. It happened again. Being a widow is like being schizophrenic, I swear.)
Fingers crossed for sunshine and LOTS of happy news tomorrow.
To those mourning, I'm sorry for your loss and for your pain. I'm so, so sorry.