I had an odd epiphany today.
The longer I wallow in my grief and sadness...the longer I will stay there.
Hmm. It felt so much wiser in my head, but now I see it written on paper and I just want to say, Duh.
I've been very hard on myself over these last 5 years. Scornful of my inability to save my parents and nurse them through terminal illnesses. Absolutely punishing over the fact that I didn't see my sister's impending death and tell her how much I loved her. Feeling like an abject failure because I was no longer earning a solid income. Worthless and self-conscious because I'm overweight. Unsettled and fearful that more bad things will happen in a single moment. And depressed that I haven't lived up to my full potential.
As I sorted through some photos from late 2006 and relived the moment of when Husband and I were chosen to adopt our son...all of the self-blame and anger and heaviness lifted. I relived the joy of being selected, the wonderment of having a new baby in our home and the simply beauty of holding a swaddled baby in my arms.
I've done the best that I can do and I've done a good job. And who the hell can blame me for breaking down over the loss of my sister, my parents, my father in law and my favorite cat? Who can rightfully be critical of me for fearing my son's unknown future? And why am I so ridiculously hard on myself for not being able to do More throughout all of these life-changing incidents?
I'm done feeling badly about myself, and I'm done feeling as though I've made insurmountable mistakes.
I'm Moving On.