Milestones, Yardstones, Millimeterstones

There are some milestones of grief and widowhood that I'm sure I will reach eventually. The first day I get through without crying, without thinking of Herb, without discovering something around the house I don't know how to manage. The settlement of his estate. Completing a tax return. Selling the car. Getting a job. Teaching my son to drive. 

But every one of these is still weeks, months, or even years away. So I need to set my sights on something closer, something smaller, something I can achieve in the nearer future. Let's call it a "yardstone". Mastering the pool is an example of what I would consider a yardstone. Buying a lawn mower and figuring out how to use it was a yardstone. Looking ahead, I would say that upcoming yardstones might be taking his name off our bank accounts, applying for COBRA coverage. taking down the lights along the eaves, transferring our mortgage, getting all the utilities in my name. A little more doable, but still somewhat significant. Which means also a little intimidating.

Right now, what is making me feel like I'm making progress is more like "millimeterstones." Cooking a meal from scratch. Getting through church needing only one Kleenex instead of 5 or 6. Cleaning the bathrooms. Going to the grocery store. Some days, just getting out of bed or taking a shower or throwing in a load of laundry is an accomplishment worthy of being called a millimeterstone. 

One of the most unexpected struggles of grief is simply exhaustion, both physical and emotional. My mind is constantly racing, running a daily mental marathon. That's exhausting. My body is constantly physically tense. That's exhausting. Making all the needed phone calls sends a rush of adrenaline to my anxious heart. That's exhausting. I struggle to sleep for more than a few hours at a time. That's exhausting. I'm constantly trying to keep a list of short- and long-term tasks and prioritize them appropriately. That's exhausting. I'm concerned about my kids and making sure they're okay and getting all the support they need. That's exhausting. I'm trying to manage the day-to-day schedule of three people and making sure they get to wherever they need to be at the appropriate time. That's exhausting. When I look at my to-do list, it seems to be endless. That's exhausting. 

The best solution for that exhaustion is looking for a way to feel like I am making progress, however slowly. And right now, I'm measuring that progress in millimeterstones. At some point, I'll move up to yardstones, probably scattered in among the millimeterstones. At some even further point, I'll start to hit an occasional milestone or two. But that's all quite some time away. So for now, I'll be satisfied with hitting a single millimeter stone a day. Maybe two or even three on a good day. 

Eventually those little millimeters will add up to a yard. And the yard will add up to a mile. And the miles will add up to relief, and wholeness, and peace. But until then, I'll keep working to achieve those millimeterstones.

Like posting a blog entry. 

*Millimeterstone Achieved*