Almost four weeks have passed and I still don't know. I don't know what to do, what to say, what to respond and what to write. I simply don't know.

Two things I do know.
I'm fine.
And I'm fine with the not knowing.

The longer I nurture the quiet, the more pieces of the puzzle appear. Sometimes I can reach out to one and look more closely at it, other times I see that a new piece floats around, but I can't grasp it.

What I found so far is that the fact that we have established our normal, brings about space to reflect over the past four years. With that reflection comes the intense grief, that I incidentally let out but generally couldn't give into. Grieving in the middle of my shit was impossible, because it prevented me from putting one foot in front of the other. Grief slows you down and I couldn't afford to slow down, let alone come to a standstill. Apparently now I can?
My exhaustion has become so extreme that I'm forced to stop. I'm getting clear physical signs that I can't continue like this - and I take my health very seriously. The first two years after the cancer diagnosis were a continuous race to beat death (as if we had anything to say about that, obviously my love and devotion aren't the reason that we have come this far). The third year I went back to work and tried with all my might to regain financial independence, while other insecurities kept piling up. And I suddenly see how I spent the fourth year trying to make up for all the energy and 'commodities' we received from others, by repaying and investing in friendships and family like crazy. My intentions were very sincere, but it took me a long time to face the underlying, destructive motive.

Unintentionally I've been draining myself up to a point that no other option is at hand than to stop knowing altogether. Which is in a strange way very refreshing as well, because I have "I'm fine" as a starting point. Not knowing isn't a problem, it's an opening.

As I think of it, I also know that somewhere, deeply hidden under the grief processes and the fatigue, I am still who I am. And once I find more pieces of the puzzle, I can get in touch with that inner person more and more. I'm just not there yet.


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