and the tears....

are starting to flow.  I have been really pleased, and really proud of myself this holiday season.  For the first time since Dave died 4 years ago we did what WE (the kids and I ) wanted to do for Thanksgiving.  We stayed home.  It was just the 3 of us and it was quiet, peaceful and very nice.      I have Christmas planned this year too - do to what the kids want.  To stay home.  We will have my parents, sister and nephew over but won't have to leave the house until our annual night time trip to friends (which they like)  We will go to my folks the day after when my brother comes with his family, but on Christmas itself we will stay home.  Something we have never done.   We also invited a church family for Christmas eve.  they are a Coast Guard family, and for the first time ever the father is out to sea for Christmas.  They have only been here a bit over a year and have no close family.  So the mom and 3 kids will join us after the early and before midnight service.  It is different, but feels right. 

So I thought I was doing good this year.  changing things up a bit seemed to  have helped my mood.  That and a recent switch of antidepressents.  Back to an even keel.  Or so I thought.   Until today.  Until church.  The flood gates have opened and they aren't showing any signs of stopping soon.    I knew that they were bound to happen sooner or later.   I am actually dealing with it okay.  Just going with the tears, not fighting it or trying to hold it back.  That has been my game plan lately and it seems to be working. Letting it out when I need to, not trying to hold back.  And most importantly not over thinking.  And when the tears to go, I am okay - not floundering in that deep depression, not getting sucked into that black hole of grief.   

So the flood gates are open.  But I think I'm okay with it this time.  I knew they would come.  But I think I will still be standing when the tears are gone.  I think I can get through this without getting sucked down.  and that is a good feeling.  and I think might even count as progress - moving forward, at my own pace (snails crawl or so it seems) but moving forward none the less.      I think Dave would be happy, I think he would want me to be able to move forward.   I think he knows that I still miss him with every fiber of my being, and love him more today than the day he left us.  I think he would be proud of me.  And that feels good.