Years ago, I thought I’d be settled by now. I thought I’d have found my way. I thought, well, I thought. I imagined. I had no idea how life would be, so I thought it’d be different by now. The slate was blank again and plans were erased. It was up to me to figure out which direction to head, but here I sit many years later feeling unsettled…still.

This is not to say I haven’t moved toward something. I have. I have come along way from the night when I watched him die. I have moved through the moments of thinking that I’d never survive as I sat near his lifeless body. As I laid my head on his chest to hear nothing…that strong heart stopped for good…I thought I would stop breathing too. I thought that I would evaporate or disintegrate. I was grateful that his illness had ended, but never, ever grateful that it meant he would end too…along with him, we ended forever…leaving me feeling completely unsettled.

He wasn’t perfect, we weren’t perfect, nothing is ever perfect, but here’s the thing…he was there for me. He loved me, he stuck with me even when I was a bitch. He stuck with me when I was wonderful. He was there when I was just average…which is what am most days. He was there…and then he wasn’t. I was alone again.

I have been alone until very recently. Even now, though not completely alone, I am alone most the time…the man who bravely stepped in, lives in another state. Sometimes I like that…sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I feel satisfied, sometimes I feel unsettled. We are still getting to know each other. Sometimes, I want more, sometimes I can’t imagine more.

Relationships are so tricky. I had forgotten this. I had bought into my happily ever after with Dave. We had promised. We had each other’s back. We were there for each other…until he wasn’t there for me anymore and then I was alone, unsettled. I have tried many different things…I moved into a new home, I’ve tried different jobs, I’ve tried new hobbies, I reflect, I set goals, I meet my goals, I try to find that peace, but then all I want to do is move the furniture around again because it just doesn’t feel right. I want it to feel right again…maybe I’m asking too much?

Sometimes I think that I have some life lesson to learn. I think that this is an opportunity to be more comfortable with me, more competent, more independent (if there is such a thing), and that I need to be alone to learn this…either I am not proficient at learning this lesson in a timely fashion…or I’m just wrong.

I can’t stand all this freedom

I’ve been here before

and it’s such a big bore

You’re all I ever needed

If you’d only walk through my door~

Sheryl Crow, Drunk with the Thought of You

Or, maybe I’m just unsettled.

I keep hoping though. Is that crazy? Most days I think it is. It really is crazy to have found someone to love and who loved me…when I think of the ratios…the failed relationships verses the successful ones…I really don’t have that great a track record…I just really have that one. I had many failed attempts at monogamy…even a previous failed marriage…how, who, why would anyone ever want to step in now?

My heart, while it is healing and open, has been through the ringer and I find it hard to trust. It’s hard to believe that anyone would want into my crazy and even harder to believe they might want to stay. Although I’d like to remain hopeful…I think the numbers speak for themselves. I think that those who find love again after great heartache are heroes. They have a courage, an ability to risk hurt again, they can put it out there even when rejection is a very real thing…maybe even the more common thing. I’m not sure I have the courage anymore. I want to be brave, but the doubt moves in…

I want to have courage. I want to trust. I want…but here I sit…unsettled still.

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Christine Thiele

Christine Thiele is a free lance writer, middle school teacher, and a former professional and volunteer youth minister. She has written for The Journal of Student Ministries, YouthWorker Journal, Grief Digest, OpentoHope.com, is a contributing author in several Open to Hope books and The Widow's Handbook (to be released in 2014 by Kent State University Press). Along with her writing, Christine is raising her two lovely and energetic sons. Since her husband's death in 2005 from pancreas cancer, her writing has been focused on grief and healing issues.

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