Two steps forward, one step back

I've been busy dancing.  One step forward, two steps back.  Two steps forward, one step back.  Now, strike a pose and Vogue.  Then again--two steps forward, one step back.  A few more steps forward, then a mad dash back and a dive into the nearest fox hole because, at times, this shit is terrifying. 

I started the year with a new job.  Same company, but a new role that is essentially a promotion.  Unexpectedly, it had me paralyzed with grief.  It was not that long before Mr. 1inamillion got sick in 2007 that I had secured a new position at work.  The interview process again put me back on that road before the cancer detour, the road we were traveling together.  I hung up after the first phone interview, walked out of my office and realized he wasn't there to rehash it with me.  When I got the job offer, I was fighting tears before I even hung up the phone because he wasn't there to celebrate it with me.  Mr. 1inamillion was the partner that supported me through school and work, the teammate on the career path who cheered me on, but now I was alone.  I sat down at my desk the first morning of the new gig, saw my new title next to my name and sobbed.  Strike a pose, now Vogue.  I felt frozen.  I envisioned myself merging back on that road we were on in 07, but alone and leaving him behind.  I also remembered the man I was married to in 07 who was encouraging and supportive of me, and grieved that loss.  A loss that happened long before 2012.  It left me stuck for a while.

Fast forward through a bit of one step forward, two steps back and some more two steps forward, one step back.  Dancing again,  and finally able to reach back before the care taking and remember the good stuff, I realized I might like that again, and that I'm lonely.  My circle of friends has shrunk amidst cancer and grew limited to couples amidst marriage.  I office from home, so my 9-5 interactions are virtual or with the dogs.  Mr.1inamillion always worked for a radio station, so our social life was made up of concerts and events with his circle of coworkers.   I'm not quite sure who I am now, and with whom I fit.  I married at 21 and by 22 my husband already had two surgeries and radiation.  My entire adult life I've been the wife and caretaker of a radio guy with cancer.  I feel like I'd been living in his world, now I'm trying to find my way in a new world of my own.  How do you be a single adult?  A single mom?  Where the hell is my manual?  Can I get a dance instructor here for all this two-stepping, maybe a hot one?

I have gained some courage and started reaching out to reconnect with old friends, pre-cancer & pre-marriage.  I started searching and trying to connect with new friends.  Confident, I had made several steps forward, but am easily spooked.  Some memories or the horror stories of others have me saying, NEVERMIND and taking a step or two back.  Dancing.  A recent pull back into Mr. 1inamillion's territory sent me not just a step back, but fleeing for the nearest fox hole, diving in and ducking my head. 

There is a song that has been stuck on my mind.  Garth Brooks singing Learning to Live Again is killing me runs through my head almost on a continual loop.  It's true.  Moving forward is difficult and terrifying.  Since someone else wrote that song over a decade ago, I can't be alone in this, right?  I'm still in the fox hole right now, but I have lifted my head and am considering my next dance moves.