Going to the funeral of someone you didn’t know is actually quite a strange experience. I went as support for husband and I think we’re both glad I did.
It was a beautiful service: standing room only in the chapel, some moments of laughter and some cherished memories shared. I wouldn’t dream of trying to speak to the life of Zoe as I didn’t know her, but I came away wishing I had known her.
I don’t do well at funerals. Or in situations of high emotion in general. I tend to shut down (there’s a psych out there somewhere dreaming of the fortunes they could make off counseling me!) A few weeks ago, I was extremely cross. Instead of shouting, screaming, throwing things, or even just talking about it, I shut down. No words were exchanged, I didn’t even look at the person. Then a few days later, all was better and back to normal.
When my dad and step-mum got married out here in Perth and we had to say goodbye to my new step-brothers to go back to England, I couldn’t deal with it, I ran away into another room to avoid all the emotion.
And I try to avoid situations where I might cry. I think I have this fear that once I start I’m just not going to be able to stop-that all the bottled up emotion will just keep coming out until I’m empty. This possibly makes me a prime candidate for another break down at somepoint but we’ll deal with that then.
Ummm, that was so not the point of starting the post. Anyway…
At the funeral on Thursday one of the things said was that Zoe never complained. From what I could gather she had been in pain and battling cancer from a very early age. Multiple surgeries, extended stays at PMH and Charlie’s and no complaint. What an amazing woman this was.
And here am I with some aches and pains, whining away and complaining that I can’t move properly. What a sook.
And I know others around me that have things a lot tougher than I do and yet I still complain, and feel sorry for myself.
So I’ve decided to take the longer view on things. I’m not going to deny that I’m in pain or that moving at normal speed is difficult on any given day. But I’m not going to try and be Super Woman and live beyond my capabilities. There must be a balance point where I can live life to the fullest that my body will let me at the minute but not be a sook and complain about it.
So if I post somewhere that I hurt or that I’m struggling, it’s merely a statement of fact. That’s where I am at that point in time. But I also know that there are people around me dealing with far worse than me.
Maybe I’ve reached a place of acceptance, as well as receiving a hefty dose of perspective.