"I'm great." Used to be my go to answer when people asked how I was doing. Really. I was doing great. Good, at worst. You know, on those days when all your kids had been sick with a stomach bug and throwing up every seven seconds, you'd been through nine pair of clothes and had resigned to the fact that you would all be in pajamas for the day, then you start feeling queasy yourself. Even on those days I was "good." I was alive, relatively well, and life in general was full.
I just can't do it now. I find my go to answer now is "okay." That's the best I can muster up. The truth is, I'm just saying "good" because I know no one actually wants to hear, "I'm terrible. I just want my life back. I want my dad. Can you give me that back? No! You can't!" Would that be too much? Over the top a little probably. Terrifying even, a little bit. So, "okay" it is.
Will I ever feel "great" again? Will this empty spot inside of me, that was once filled with everything my dad was to me ever feel full? Even numb would be better than the pain that's been stuck in there as a space saver.
I mean, how many times a day should a person have to say to themselves, "Pull yourself together. Life has to keep moving forward." Is a million too much?
Luckily I'm blessed with my babies who need me. Gets me out of bed everyday. I find myself lost in them right now. Not much else seems to matter. The house can wait. Dinner can be a quick throw together. They are the thing bringing me joy, and I feel like that's because they are doing what I know I should be doing. Moving forward. Living everyday to it's fullest.
I have to do this. I can't just be sad forever. It's not fair to my family, and it's not fair to me. It's not even fair to my dad, who would tell me to chin up and keep going.
So, for right now I'm okay. Truly okay.
One day I'll be good. Then maybe, somewhere down the road, I can be great again. I'll just have to take it one day at a time until then.