I wrote some yesterday about the good feelings I’m having because I’m getting up off of my fine wide arse and moving. Physically, I feel about 1000% better. Mentally, I’m clearer. Emotionally, better, but here’s the thing–I don’t know that I’ll ever fully adjust to this New Normal stuff.
I am happier. Much happier. But I’m not seeing my way back to where I was. How could I possibly go back? Loving Mr. F changed me on a fundamental level, and will continue to change me. I’ll never be the same. I’m making peace with that, and even–here’s a shocker–finding some good in it. It could be that I’m a little more compassionate. A touch more empathetic. Kinder. Have a few less sharp edges. I’d hope so.
I’d also hope that I can take what I’ve learned and felt and know deep in my bones and use it to do some good. What good is the knowledge of suffering if one doesn’t turn that toward lessening someone else’s pain? That’s a question that’s much on my mind right now. I want to make a difference, even in the smallest of ways.