I had a trying day today. I probably don't have to explain this in detail - the day for lovers, and mine is in a box on the funeral directors' shelf (and I really need to do something about that... but that's another post). I was in a knot of anger and self-pity from yesterday morning onward. Hating it and hating myself but unable to bring any influence to bear on my state of mind. My body feels permeated with anger and frustration - my skin and hair are dry, my nails flaky, my digestion erratic. It's such a horrible knot of negativity.
I was looking for someone to have a row with, and I found one today. I rowed, I snapped and ranted. I considered starting a fight with another friend but thought better of it. I went to a martial arts class and I was not kidding when I went at my hapless partner, pads or no pads. I showered, then shouted and cried at my therapist for an hour. Phew.
Then, later, exhausted, I went to meditation class. The emphasis tonight was on opening the heart centre (or chakra, if you like that sort of thing). I should have known. And I almost cried at the start because a completely random word used by the instructor flashed me back to a memory from a few weeks before my partner died, the last night out he managed, before his body failed. Nobody could have known this association even existed, it wasn't deliberate. I wanted to cry and walk out but I held on. I participated fully in the meditation, vowed earnestly to love myself and dutifully sent love out into the universe as instructed, hoping some of the other students' love would seep into me on its way past.
At the end, the instructor gave everyone a rose. Which was a bit cheesy, but it made me smile, and the whole experience cheered me up remarkably.
And I have to take this comfort. Today, at least, I can believe that I have not lost my capacity to love. Cancer and death and grief have hollowed me out and spread me so thin I can sometimes barely see myself but I can - I must - still love myself. And I can love my family. I can love my friends. I can continue to love my partner even though he no longer exists on this plane (or, frankly, on any other - I'm not a believer). I can love art, theatre, poetry, and passion fruit sundaes from M&S. All this is enough for a meaningful life. One day, I may love someone else romantically, but I am content to wait for that day, and if it never arrives, I am not the lesser for it.
Until the rage comes back, and it will, I have a fragile peace as I sip herbal tea and look at my rose.
