I Don't Want My Mojo Back

I Don’t Want My Mojo Back

By Cindy Adkins

After going through a loss—when nothing makes sense and even the simplest tasks seem daunting, you may feel as if this state of mind will go on forever.  It is a time of taking baby steps.  It is when getting up and putting on a pot of coffee appears next to impossible.  Then, days turn into weeks.  You are still there, your loved one is gone, and somehow, life asks the impossible of you—it wants you to go on.  In those moments between shock, disbelief, and trying to adjust to what you thought life, itself, would never ask of you, it is hard to believe that you will be able to do that.  Yes, you have heard of those lost in car accidents, young soldiers killed in the line of battle, shootings in areas where you might not even feel safe to park your car—but you never thought that the stranger called “Death” would come to your doorstep, yet it did.

Add to that the fact that others who are close to you never thought it could happen, either, so you do not get the impression that they are comfortable being around you and your grief.  It is a process that for a time can feel as if it is getting worse instead of better.  Time moves on.  Emotions do not go away.  You pick up a photograph that has been sitting on the dresser and look at it in your hands for the hundredth time since last week.  There may be a closet to empty and clothes that you cannot bear to part with.  Then, there is paperwork that you need to fill out when you barely know your own name or address.  Could this really be happening or is it a bad dream?

In these moments that are not discussed around the office water cooler or at backyard barbecues, it is easy to feel lost and overwhelmed.  Anyone else who has gone through it feels the same way; only you might not realize that as you stumble through the day in search of answers to why it happened in the first place.  Get your mojo back?  That is the furthest thing from your mind.  Right now you are content to be able to clean up the dinner dishes—that is if you remembered to eat at all.

So, when will life change and how long will it feel this way?  For each person it is different.  Change does not happen in one pivotal moment.  Rather, it is gradual and that is why it is referred to as a process.  Weeks turn into months and months into years.  I remember when I went through a loss many years ago.  When I could barely function, I got up one morning and thought to myself, “How is it possible that the world is still turning?”  People went to their jobs, planned events, and made luncheon dates.  For everyone else, it appeared as if life was “business, as usual.”  But, it did not feel that way to me—far from it.  That is when I came to the conclusion that the answers to those questions about where my journey would take me might not be answered in those moments.  Instead, I would have to wait for them to unfold.

If any of this makes sense to you, let me take this moment to give you a hug.  It may not be in person, but it is from the heart.  I know that you could use one right now.  I also know that while life is filled with unanswered questions, we are still seekers.  It is an intrinsic quest on the part of us all.  It is natural.  It is also normal to want someone to reach out to us and feel our pain and give us reassurance.  That is what I want to give you, even at a distance.  I hope that my hug conveys that I care about what has happened to you and if you feel as if your world has stopped turning, I am meeting you in this moment to say that I understand.