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Formulas (for what they're worth)

Moving on: One month for every year together.
Reconciling: One month for every year together - when both parties are invested.

At least I think that's what Mr. Bond or Starskey said.

Sending you a huge hug and tons of love E. I'm sorry no one is there to hold you, that's just a chitty spot to be in. You're doing well taking care of yourself and navigating an impossible road.

Please be kind to yourself and give yourself credit for all of the strength you're showing.

My love to you,

PP

Well that is a long time!

Omg id be looking at 3 yrs... for the length of time we've been together... Really ? Is that what I have to look forward to?

Let's just say it's a long sloooooow journey.

So there is the gift of time. We use it to work on us.

V

My IC thinks these formulas are way too short. He tells me that for most people it's 3-5 years. Most of the people that get into new R's before that are rebounding to some extent or other.

I haven't been through this so I'm not going to debate it. Just sharing my IC's words.

Either way it's a long time, it's a big deal, and it kind of stinks. That's why finding appreciation and happiness for what we have is so important. There is no guarantee of the future, better live today like it's our last and be grateful for what we have and proud of how we're living!

A friend of mine lost her dog and is grieving for him. Someone else posted this to her and I thought it sort of deals with what we're all going through as well. My IC reminded me today that it was okay to grieve and natural as well.

"Alright, here goes. I'm old. What that means is that I've survived (so far) and a lot of people I've known and loved did not. I've lost friends, best friends, acquaintances, co-workers, grandparents, mom, relatives, teachers, mentors, students, neighbors, and a host of other folks. I have no children, and I can't imagine the pain it must be to lose a child. But here's my two cents.

I wish I could say you get used to people dying. I never did. I don't want to. It tears a hole through me whenever somebody I love dies, no matter the circumstances. But I don't want it to "not matter". I don't want it to be something that just passes. My scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love. So be it. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even gouged, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can't see.

As for grief, you'll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you're drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it's some physical thing. Maybe it's a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it's a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive.

In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don't even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you'll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what's going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything...and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life.

Somewhere down the line, and it's different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O'Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you'll come out.

Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don't really want them to. But you learn that you'll survive them. And other waves will come. And you'll survive them too. If you're lucky, you'll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks."

That's beautiful Elly.

It also made me cry. This is a board full of scarred up folks.

Big hug,

PP

I know PP, it's where we need to be right now.

V

It made me cry too, PP. but it also gave me a bit of hope in this big ocean of grief. Scars show our journey and how deep our love has been and will be.

*Hugs*

E