6 Weeks to Live

Hello hello! I hope all is going well out there with whoever is reading this entry 🙂

Before I get started, I wanted to address the title of this entry. I hope it isn’t found to be insensitive, my intentions aren’t to upset anyone who’s heard these words themselves. My choice of words is mostly metaphorical, but there was a time they felt quite literal to me. I don’t in any way want to scare or trigger anyone, and I hope it’s understood why these words fit better than any. With that said, let me further explain.

I wrote this entry some time in early April. I had been filtering through a lot of memories, feelings, and comparisons of what was occurring in my life exactly a year ago… me then vs. me now. I feel somewhat better to be out of that time frame of frequent flashbacks, but the process of going through the memories made in that 6 weeks I spent home in New Mexico and Colorado took me for a ride, and I felt the need to do the reflection justice and expel it all as it came. It took me weeks to get it all written out and weeks to finally edit and post it, but here we are and here it is. I hope you enjoy the read. 

Exactly one year ago, I was in the midst of an extended visit from Texas to New Mexico. Great grandmother would have just been buried, my marriage was ending, and I would be between New Mexico and Colorado for a total of 6 weeks. Lately, my mind has been on somewhat of a loop for the past few days, retracing the anniversaries of many things… where I stood last year, and where I stand now. I can’t help but make the comparison, and I feel moved to share these thoughts and feelings about it all. 

In previous posts I talk about the unraveling of my marriage, and the struggle I endured mentally and emotionally for quite some time. In the weeks before grandma’s passing I was slowly decaying, falling to pieces over and over and leaking away for hours upon hours each day. I can remember having to force myself to do the littlest of things every single day. I’d moved into the spare bedroom of our shared apartment, and mostly stayed in that bed for weeks on end. All the energy I had left after being a sleepless, weepy mess, was barely enough to get myself up and out of the bed for a shower, have at least ONE meal, and an occasional cigarette on the balcony. I was so sick of myself around this time. I wasn’t handling this break up well at all, in fact I literally couldn’t believe it. Each time I attempted to process what was occurring in my life, I sobbed uncontrollably and usually fell into an anxiety attack that lasted forever. I was so confused and my heart was shattered, I could feel it all physically settling in my chest and I’d never had to deal with something so heavy. Everything hurt in every facet of the meaning, I’d never felt this kind of pain before… there’d never been hopelessness like this within me before. I felt like I could just die of heartache. My entire system felt like it was attacking itself starting with the mental burnout, and drowning me in the emotional hurricane, only to leave me exhausted and unable to sleep. There wasn’t a single part of me that believed I could go on without her, and that terrified me. What even was I without being her wife? There didn’t really seem to be any other answer, I had done the best I could to fit myself into that role. Was there even anything left of me??

I still swear that the Universe just happens to align things the way you need them to. Losing my grandma at the start of all of this put me in a tailspin, but also put me back where all the love I needed was ready and waiting to heal me, if I was willing to let it. While I still kinda lost my shit for a few more weeks, I was given the space to do so in whatever way I needed to. I moved in and out of moments alone to full blown social situations with family and friends. Some days I spent entirely alone cooped up in a windowless room, listening to audiobooks, and being a crybaby. Other days I spent in a house full of family or out of town visiting with friends. I still cried a lot, kinda too much, but it clearly was all necessary to keep me moving through it. While I was home, with the help of others, I found a place that existed deep and buried within, that still held hope. I knew I had to reach for that place, and start over from there. I knew I had to make a distinctive choice to be and do better by myself, or I was about to slip down a steep slope.  I wouldn’t be making it out of this despair thriving unless I fought. 

The Covid pandemic had started in me a habit that came so close to consuming me, and one that I have a predisposition to over indulge in. Alcoholism runs in my family, and drinking has been a means for running away from myself for a pretty decent amount of my life. When the virus hit in 2020, stress rose with constant news updates that went back and forth, the change in interactions with others, as well as the initial creepy visual of everyone in masks, it was a lot for me to process. By mid day, I was ready to knock a few back, in hopes that my ability to overthink would be dulled and I would have a bit of a break from the constant “what ifs” and attempts to make sense of the world as it mutated around us. For months, I did this at least 5 nights a week and I typically caught me a pretty decent buzz most of the time. 

When my world fell apart the following year, a major part of me ached for a drink only moments after waking up. I didn’t want to feel everything, I didn’t want to feel anything… at all. But since I wasn’t eating, sleeping, or drinking water much as was, I knew drinking booze would only prove to make me sick, and in a really odd way, I’m so very thankful for that. My struggle to stay sober followed me on my long visit home. I did have a few nights where I let that craving get the best of me, and as I’d assumed it would, it made everything so much worse in a number of ways. I refrained most of the time however, and managed to do so through the remaining days I had left at the apartment we shared in Austin. How it plagued me started to get to me. The fact that I woke up thinking about getting drunk made me feel ashamed and weak. This huge life change was obviously gonna hurt a lot and make things pretty difficult for a while, but I had never fought so hard with myself to stick with the present and feel what was occurring. The abundance of emotions between the split from my wife and the loss of my great grandmother made it too easy to sit and dream of numbing how I felt, but the fact that I was hardly hanging on to begin with meant I had no choice but to strap in and go for this ride. Otherwise I was pretty sure I’d be losing my mind shortly. I’m blessed that I knew deep down that I just couldn’t allow myself to crumble that way. Without those 6 weeks at home, I don’t know that I would have this life as I do now, this is why my title fits. Those 6 weeks helped me choose to live, because going on as I was would slowly kill me, I could already feel it killing my spirit and I knew it would take the rest of me with it someday. 

Almost a whole year later…life is pretty much brand new these days, but I choose to reflect on that time to remind myself of what I went through that brought me to where I am right now. There’s still much of the path left to travel ahead, but as it is now I sit here with a smile on my face, because I know I have been humbled and I am pleased with the result of my journey thus far. A lot of work has been done, a number of hands that reached out to lift me up, and countless arms that held together my brokenness. And thanks to the great and disastrous fall, my world has come together again and continues to expand. This kind of happiness has never existed in my life before, and it stems from the intentional healing and shadow work I have been doing and work through currently. I’ve never felt so connected to myself and my life as I do now, and honestly I couldn’t be more proud of myself for choosing to stay focused. It still hurts, I still struggle with temptations, but I remind myself how far every step taken has brought me, and how each step will keep taking me further. Losing what I thought was the most important thing to me, proved that I had it all wrong… I AM what’s most important to me… if I cease to exist then I am nothing and so is everything else… and I am the only one that can make any bit of difference in that aspect. And so I will. I will love me, and care for me so that I may exist. So that I may thrive. So that I can have enough love to give it abundantly to the things that are good for me, in hopes that I can be good for them in return. Most importantly I’ve come to know that I am whole, just as I am, because I AM. Nothing gives me greater comfort than embracing that fact. 

For the first time in almost a decade, I have a clear set of goals and I work daily to prioritize them and make them my reality. I surround myself with the tools to ensure that I keep growing, with people who appreciate me for who I am, and anything else my soul finds sacred, to remind me of all the things that make living life so special. Feeling hope after having lost it all, is like being gifted the nectar of life. It is sweet, wholesome, and nourishing to this soul and revitalizing to this spirit. I thank the Gods this was the path I was offered and the path I chose, I’m thankful I am here and chose each step that led me along the way <3

Thank you for being here with me. For sharing this journey and allowing me to dump out all these thoughts and feelings from this heart out onto this site. This is yet another tool that helps me to keep growing in new ways. I love you, and I hope the journey you’re on is proving to be fruitful and overflowing with love. 

Until Next Time…

<3 Miki Len