Trying, attempting, striving

What I'm thinking about as I sit here on this last evening of February is how this month has given me the feeling of being in a blender for 28 days, tossed around, upside down and shredded. I'm thinking that even though it feels sometimes that I've made no forward movement at all, that I have in fact taken some steps. Little by little, step by step, I am inching forward. Although I am human enough to wish I could wake up one morning and the heartbreak would be behind me just like that, I'm also human enough to know that such great progress in a short time would not at all be real.

I'm trying to rebuild what was lost in me, trying to regain what was taken from me. I'm trying to use good judgement and move slowly and with awareness of how fragile I am and how I absolutely must trust time and keep going. Some days are better than others -- I think that's been evident here. As I re-build myself, I strive to keep out the negatives, the regret and the resentment. I also strive to override hope for what I know won't happen, to put that hope away. It's grueling work, that one. Sometimes I get stuck. I dwell on what is not and wish it was again. Last night was one of those times. Nothing good can come from such thinking and I've tried to move beyond it today.

I try to spend more time focusing on what I need and where I'm going, and spend less of my time thinking of or wondering about him and thinking about what was. I strive for healing, and it comes. And goes. And returns again. And then makes an unannounced exit yet again. Slow-moving and inconsistent thing, healing. I know, I know, it takes time.

How I wish this was over and I was beyond it, far beyond it. How I long for the day when all my little steps have added up to solid steps that have taken me to a place where my heart is no longer hurting, to a place where I no longer miss him, to a time when, well, to a time when this time is long ago and far behind me.