Gathering my thoughts

I realized this morning that I really am quite scattered in a variety of ways. Losing my daughter was like carrying a stack of books and papers and suddenly running smack into someone who knocks everything out of your hands. Most of the time, someone who does that is courteous enough to help you pick things up. Not so in this case.

Initially, I left the jumbled pile where it was and fled. Literally. We (as a family) traveled all over the place--to a friend's house 40 minutes away, to another state--just trying to get away from our house that no longer held a young child's sounds, activities, and things. I didn't know how to pass the time.

When I returned to work, I was forced to start picking up the pieces. I'd like to think I had help. Friends who listened to me when I was freaking out about being in that house, having to think straight, missing my daughter, or just needed to vent all helped. Eventually, I got to the point where I was carrying some of my stuff again. It was still jumbled, but at least I had a grip on it.

This morning, I was thinking that I've probably managed to pick up most of the pieces. There's still a pile on the floor, but maybe I can leave some of it there. And what I'm carrying around is still a jumbled mess, but like my desk, I'm usually able to sort through the junk and find what I need. For now, that has to be good enough.