Emotion #4: Acceptance

    


    Today I am feeling rather lost and mucked down. Literally, mucked down in my pasture earlier this morning when I went out to take care of my horse and donkeys. As I pushed my feet into muck boots I could feel the angst. I shouldn’t have to wear these in February. I shouldn’t need to fight my way through sucking mud one step and the next fight to retain my balance as my skating rink pasture tries to land me on my ass.

    Ironically, the inside of my barn is oozing water from around the south wall, my donkey’s stall floor seeping water from beneath, and yet…my water source, the red handled pull up never failed me yet well yielded nothing. So, insult of all universal insults, I had to tromp back through the mucky, ice slicked pasture to fill buckets with water. Normally, water inside the barn isn’t needed because my equines prefer to stay outdoors; but today, because of the warm wet downpours Mother Nature shared yesterday, I needed to bring them inside to eat and dry off before releasing them. Today, I needed to rinse and refill their stall water because I’m a good f’n owner. Today, I slid about four feet while carrying the green five gallon bucket filled for trip number two. 

    But more than any of that, today I feel the weight of grief settling on me. I know it’s coming. I have done this long enough to admit and acknowledge the signs. I pushed the two year death date of my brother away like a helium filled balloon, knowing it would come back probably sooner than later. Busy with the Women’s expo all weekend, there was no space for the remembering; but this week I gave my body time to recoup. This week has been idle. I felt its shadow yesterday, and today I feel its weighty approach. This morning’s antics brought the rage, the anger, the F you magnitude; but I know the fallout is near. 

            

    I know not to keep pushing, that there is only so much in my reserve tank and inevitably I will need to simply allow the wave to crash over top of me. Something insignificant will set it into motion. The tears, the anguish, and the heartbreak will be like stones in the water, pelting me as the wave moves through and leave me spent. I also know it will pass, ebb back to normal, whatever normal is for me. It is the way of grief, the building, the straining, and the crash of acceptance. It’s worth the love that causes the cycle, and will leave me ready to take in all the good again.

            

    Just writing about it today has helped. It usually does, when I write honestly, when I don’t try to adjust and dilute or fit my thoughts to what my brain and heart try to convince me I ‘need’ or ‘should’ feel. You’d think I’d know that by now, but it’s a lesson I have to learn over and over again. Cheers, to my continuing education.







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