Grief.
There is something about grief that makes you want to run away, to isolate yourself, to take an exotic vacation and escape it. Yet at the same time, there is something about grief that makes you want to stay in it forever, to wrap yourself up in it and constantly be in it. It's an interesting, perplexing, sometimes frustrating conundrum. It's messy. And it's also beautiful. Grief is so many things.
Grief is like a snowflake; there are no two people who grieve in the same way. It's unique grasp on your heart, your mind, your body clutches at each person's psyche differently, and maybe that is what makes grief so isolating and so damn lonely sometimes.
The one thing I've learned thus far on my new journey is that everyone means well. When they ask "How are you?" (no matter how annoying that might be) it is coming from a place of love. Even though at times I don't want to think about my grief or even try to explain how I am, (because I'm honestly not sure) I always try to remember to appreciate those who are asking. At least they are asking. I hope they keep asking. It lets me know they care. About me. About my mom.
Sometimes I feel a little crazy. I lost my mom 8 months ago (has it been that long already?) Honestly, a lot of times I feel nothing. My mom was my rock, my best friend, my go-to person. Yes, we clashed once in a while, but that's part of being a family. Ultimately, my mother was amazing, and her life was an inspiration to a lot of people. So, why are there so many times when I feel numb? Why are there so many times where I am squeaking out one or two tears and comforting everyone else? Why can't I FEEL? I try to convince myself that grief can be a choice. And, grief, like anything else, can be a choice sometimes. In fact, maybe most of the time. If I think long and hard about anything sad, I will bring myself down into a depression, and probably cry for a long time. When I think long and hard about how my mother passed away, or what she went through, I do get sad. I feel this awful ache, which someone described to me as "a heavy soul." I could cry for hours at a time, if I chose to sit and look at her pictures, and wrap myself up in my grief. And sometimes, as torturous as being sad is, it is satisfying because in a way I am honoring her memory. I am remembering. But sometimes, grief is not a choice, and it hits you head on like a shit ton of bricks. I have had a couple of those moments (and I'm sure I will have more). Most of the time I'm either exhausted or just plain old frustrated and at my breaking point. When I was finishing up an intense capstone course for my master's degree (about a month and a half after my mother's death), the student I was working with gave me an extra dose of shenanigans and totally flipped on me in front of my professor. I was already exhausted, having worked a full day and driven an hour just to see him, and he pushed every last one of my buttons until I cracked. I was both embarrassed, ashamed, and really legitimately angry and upset with both him and my professor. I kept my cool, but in his anger, he screamed at me and smacked my cup of coffee off the table. My. Coffee. The only thing I had going for me on that seriously frustrating day. We both cooled off, worked on it, and finished our session. But after he left, I sobbed. I sobbed major crocodile tears with my head on the desk and snot dripping from my nose. I am so not one of those girls who looks pretty when she cries. I was inconsolable. It was embarrassing how much I sobbed. I went in the bathroom and smacked my face and told myself to snap out of it. I splashed water on my face; I talked myself out of it; only to continue to sob a few seconds after. I sobbed so much my professor had to come find me in the bathroom and I had to tell her that I couldn't get myself together and I needed to go home. And then I sobbed for an hour's commute home. Was my sobbing really about my student's shenanigans? Of course not. It was the icing on the freaking cake of a stress, grief-filled life. It was about my mom. I needed my mom. I went to the mall and I bought two Alex & Ani bracelets; one was a heart that spoke to me and one was the Stand up to Cancer symbol. It made me feel close to my mother. It was an impulse, shopping-therapy way to deal with my intense feelings of grief, but it helped. And every time I wear the bracelets, I think of her.
Anyway, one of the ways that I need to honor my mother is by finding my happy again. And there is so much happy to be found. I know that to be true. And, I don't pretend to be a therapist or a grief therapy expert, but I can share my journey and maybe make someone else feel a touch less crazy. Because there are days when I do feel completely nuts. Not every day, but some days.
Some of the best advice I have heard is to be kind to yourself. Forgive yourself. Be gentle. Grief changes your world. It puts new shades over your eyes and you see the world differently. Everything has changed. Nothing is ever going to be the same. What happened to you is not ok, but you will get through it. There is hope.
I have also heard that things "don't get better, they get different." While sometimes I am very optimistic about things getting better, I also sometimes enjoy wallowing in the grief, because I want to feel it. I want to remember her beautiful face, her beautiful spirit, her beautiful soul. I don't want to sob 24/7, but I want to feel. People expect you to get over it and move on, but you can't. And the most helpful people, the most comforting people, are the people who come up to you and say, "I have lost my mom/dad. I know how much it sucks." And they give you a big hug.
The hugs. I miss my mom's hugs. Sometimes thinking and being in my grief helps. In its screwed up way, grief also brings me comfort. Twisted, but true.
