"How" I am "doing"

"How are you doing?"

I get up, shower and dress every day.

I don't avoid people. Not many anyway.

I plan projects. I even get some of them done.

I am not hiding away at home.

I shop. 

I pay my bills.

I travel, by myself and with others.

I think I am doing okay. 

But at times I still struggle to know how to answer that question.

"How are you?"

Is there a formula or a chart you can measure by?

I wish I knew, because sometimes I think I am a little crazy.

It has been more than two years and it still does not feel real. Though I am not sure how being a widow is supposed to feel because I have never been one before. I am not in denial. I know Bill is gone from my life but I sometimes feel like he's just been busy at work and he is going to show up anytime now. 

For the last two months or so I have been sad. Not unhappy, just sad* deep in my gut. Like I am wearing a wool cloak on a summer day. Wait, that feeling could be the hot, humid, unrelenting summer weather we have had. 

(*There is a big difference between sad and unhappy. Like there is a huge difference between joy and happiness. I have felt sad while being happy and celebrating something wonderful. I have also had joy in the midst of sorrow.)  

There is a lot of decision making that comes along with being the responsible adult, the one in charge. I have made decisions on my own. Some I question if I made the right one, some I am confident in. Some I have put on hold.

I am trying new things. I have old hobbies I have not yet picked up again.

Sometimes I am so weary I feel like my limbs are weighted. Sometimes I have a lot of energy and I have no idea where it came from.

There are times I cry every day and there are stretches I go weeks without shedding a tear. Okay, maybe weeks is a stretch, but I have gone at least days. Thankfully the ugly cry has become the exception rather than the rule.

The kids and I talk about Bill to one another and to the grandchildren. I have talked to friends about him. Sometimes I (we) cry. Sometimes I (we) laugh.

I don't avoid any place because of memories. I also don't seek out any places because of memories. But I still can't sit down in a restaurant by myself.

Sometimes, for no reason, I am easily angered, I am not kind, nor patient or understanding. Sometimes I want to throw things and stomp around. I don't, but I am tempted. On days when I am tired of adult-ing it is a close call.

So, "How am I doing?"

How?

Step by step, day by day, one foot in front of the other, seeking God every single morning and multiple times during the day, I am doing the best I know to do. I know I don't always get it right. 

I know it is only by the power of God at work in me that I am doing life, not hiding from it and that is how I intend to keep doing until He calls me home.