Day 17 / Day 48: I Feel Good!

I feel good! I feel actually kind of good this morning and I don’t feel guilty about it. Yes, I am still in mourning. Yes, the cleanup continues. Yes, my family and I and so many of our friends and loved ones are still not living at home. Yes, I have hopes for the gravely injureds’ recoveries. And yes, I don’t know what the next rains will bring, or – worse than that – I suspect the next rains will bring more. Or if not the next rains, then the ones after that. It’s not over. Not this incident, and not this new reality, this new awareness, that where we live is perilous. The bubble is burst.

So I’m going to try to find out who’s in charge of redesigning the channels and redesigning the catch basins for this place. I’m going to help make sure that process has everything it needs to be as excellent as humanly possible, whether it’s money, sandwiches, a feisty cheerleader, or a huge, organized groundswell of political pressure, or whatever it is.

Alternatively, I could run away. We could run. But for me I know it will be better to dig in and help however I can.  And that may be staying out of the way of the folks charged with these projects.  Maybe.

I love my village but my village needs more than love right now. It needs workers, big trucks, lots and lots of money to pay and feed and house the workers and the big trucks, and it needs geologists, engineers, historians, designers, rock climbers, and science-y talent, and lots of money to pay those people too. And then more workers and trucks and scaffolding and stuff like that, to build whatever needs to be built to maximize our ongoing safety here.

No one needs this curvy writer to get out there and clear rubble, that’s not my sphere of excellence and I’d just be in the way. But I’m actually pretty good at political organizing and fundraising, I’ve been told. So I’m gonna poke around and see where those kinds of talents might be of use, here. And on a more macro, beyond my village level, I’m assuming all of us reading this are registered to vote? If unsure, check here:

So. I’m feeling pret-ty good about my whole falling apart/getting back up process right now. Pret-ty good. I felt my feelings, including the ones me no likey. I ate more French fries in two weeks than in the last two years. I talked and processed with anyone I could find. I was there for people when they needed it, and will continue to be. And so. Ok.

I said to Trish, my therapist, “I just want to be sure I’m doing this grieving thing as efficiently and expeditiously as possible.” She laughed and said it doesn’t get to be like that. It’s going to take the time it’s going to take and rushing it or requiring it to be different from how it is will not be helpful.

She said comparing my process to other people’s processes will not be helpful. And I remembered that line I love so much, "comparison is the thief of joy," even with this stuff.  Trish said I should just be me how I am and meet myself where I am. I can do that. I’m gonna keep going.