One of my issues is that people simply don't understand. I hear a lot of "Just take it one day at a time." That's inaccurate. My life isn't something that comes naturally anymore. Before, I could go through my day being happy without much effort. I could go home and take care of my house, go grocery shopping, tend to my precious dog, and run errands without a second thought. I was in a routine that flowed very well in my life. My happiness was nearly effortless, because Steven made it that way. That doesn't happen anymore. I don't grocery shop hardly at all. I buy maybe a carton of milk and make sure I've got a few snacks and stuff for sandwiches. I have to depend on other people to help me take care of my dog to make sure she isn't lonely all day. Nothing in my life is effortless anymore. Every thought is carefully constructed, and every action is thoroughly planned. That is exhausting. I spend a great deal of time and energy deciding what the next right thing is, and then I put the same time and energy in to making it happen. One benefit of this process is that I'm slowly learning to trust myself. I no longer depend on others to make decisions for me. Therefore, I am less concerned with pleasing others and more concerned with pleasing myself.
Trust is an odd concept to process. The person I trusted for over 5 years is gone. Its just me. Here I am making decisions about my house, my life, and myself without his input. That's scary! Steven was smart, hardworking, and dedicated. I knew I didn't have to worry about bad decisions, because I trusted him. With his trust came a reassurance that life would be fulfilling, happy, and exciting together. Without his trust, I'm left wondering doubtfully about how fulfilling, happy, and exciting my life will really be. I still pray with nearly every thought I have that my life will be happy again. People tell me that the pain will eventually fade, or that there will eventually be an end in sight. I'm starting to realize that this doesn't stop. This tragedy will always be there. It doesn't go away with time, and I won't eventually stop asking questions. This is part of who I am, and it has made such a mark on my soul like a bad scar that will never go away. Listen. This doesn't go away. The grief may take a different face, and my outward appearance may lighten. This experience is such a part of me and the rest of my life that I find it near impossible to believe that there will be an end.
Faith and trust, in my experience, are not the same. Faith is an idea. Trust is a motion. For example, I have faith that my employer will not manipulate my bank account. I show that I trust them by providing them with my account information for the purposes of a direct deposit, and we sign a document indicating our mutual trust. Follow? I have faith that God and Steven have the answers. They know what's right for me, and God has a plan for me that has been carefully crafted to accentuate the best characteristics I have to offer the world. Where humans fail is in their interpretation of faith. Understand, I'm guilty as well. Our idea of God is so small and does him no justice. We are not capable of comprehending the beauty of God, heaven, and what our afterlife entails. We are also unable to understand that what God has planned is perfect (his definition of perfect, not ours). This is the area in which I especially fail. I can have all the faith in the world that God has a specific plan for me, but I am not at a point where I can trust him to execute this plan. There are no spoken words of reassurance, and there is nothing worldly that convinces me that I don't need that control. That's tough. God doesn't communicate on our level. There's no written plan we can look to to make our next decision. There's no phone call or email pointing the direction. He doesn't text, tweet, or update a facebook status. I see nothing and I hear nothing. My only solution is to speak when I can't hear and open my eyes when I can't see.
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