Monday, April 29, 2013

Grief - Part 2

I just finished my last exam. I originally had a post scheduled for today that was all about popping champagne and celebrating, but the truth of it is, I don't really feel like celebrating (and as long as we're being honest here - I don't really feel I deserve to celebrate). A few weeks back I wrote a post about grief. It was spontaneous, written that morning and it came from the heart. It revealed that I'm struggling.

You see, back in January a young man in my extended family passed away. And as you may have guessed, he was far too young and his life was taken by some cruel, misguided and lost individuals.

A few days ago, my husband's grandmother also passed away and, well, suffice to say this girl just hasn't felt like celebrating.

My intention in sharing this on my blog is not to bring anyone else down, or to illicit sympathy. Rather, I just want to be honest about where I am right now.

I've never been great at handling loss in any form (I don't actually know anyone who is), and it's been a great source of contention for me because I often resort to putting on a (fake) smile and telling everyone I'm fine, when all I really want is to connect, and then it ends up imploding in some self-sabotaging way.

And in many ways, we're all enablers of this type of behaviour. How many times are you asked in a day "how are you?" and how many times have you said "fine," or "okay" when what you really wanted to say was "actually I'm feeling pretty shitty, and I need a hug or some time off". How many times have you asked that question, only expecting (wanting) the other person to say "fine" because anything else would be too much. That shit would just be too real, and how dare they rain on your parade.

So here are a few of my truths about where I am right now because if I have to start putting on a fake smile here, then I just don't think I have it in me to keep it up:

I'm sad.

I'm angry.

I'm still not over the fact that my husband was diagnosed with testicular cancer and went through surgery and chemotherapy and even though he is fine now, it's a constant reminder of how I came so close to losing him. I'm still in awe of the incredible support he received from his friends and co-workers; I'm still sad that not one of my friends picked up the phone now and then to ask me how I was.

I'm afraid of dying.

I feel overwhelmed.

I try my best to be a good person, but I still fuck up sometimes.

I'm human, and even though life is this beautiful, crazy miracle - the truth is sometimes it sucks. And so right now I just want to say "I'm not fine" and I want that to be okay.

1 comment:

  1. you are not fine. that is okay. your truthful words are a balm. sending you peace from here, for when it fits.