In the blink of an eye, I went from being a social butterfly and extrovert, with an exciting career change from teaching to 'who knew what', to a introvert, and traumatised young widow. All on one ordinary morning last March, when my parter Craig left for work and never came back.
Grappling with the imploding darkness of the life I was left with, I had very little ability to do anything other than the basics: eat (little), sleep (lots) and just breathe (in and out, just that). I didn't realise at the time, but I was being strong. I just had a new definition of that word, when before being strong had meant 'working my fingers to to bone' or something rather more grandiose. I also learned the true meaning of grit. It's not glittery. It doesn't sparkle. Not to the human eye anyway. Yet it is magic. It's that almost undefinable essence that keeps you in existence, still clinging on to the precipice of surviving and... well... not.
Following months of self-imposed isolation, I re-emerged, as did a glimmer of my former self. The 'people person' who thrived around others. I forced myself to face challenges I didn't want to face. I joined Give Get Go despite every cell in my body screaming 'what's the point; nothing good is ever going to happen to you ever again'.
I found myself with a purpose again. I found myself making new friends. New goals. New dreams in a tattered landscape I barely recognised anymore. They weren't the dreams I had signed up for. They would never involve the love of my life who'd wished so desperately for me to take the terrifying plunge of leaving a career I'd excelled at, to find another exciting path. But dreams they are and a new landscape it shall be. And one day I will recognise it as my own.