Photo by Bug'sBitePlayfood
I've been stuffing. I don't mean putting bread and spices into a turkey's nether regions. I mean my emotions.
It's been too painful to deal with this loss. I avoid Jeff's photos. I redirect my thoughts. I do things that seem to take the pain away for a moment. When I talk of the loss of Jeff, I refuse to feel the sadness. I push it down. I turn away. I try to forget. Like a door closed to a fire, the smoke eventually seeps under through the cracks.
I almost felt smug with this coping mechanism. I thought that I had found a way to survive with out crumbling at least once a day. We all hear that you 'should' allow yourself to feel emotions so they don't come back later to get you. But I guess I thought I was the exception. "I can do it", I told myself, "I'm strong." But it turns out that I'm not strong. I'm a coward. I've been hiding under a blanket and hoping that it will be gone when I emerge. Like a child hiding from a monster. But I am hiding from sadness, loneliness and fear.
But now, I can't hide. The last two days have been really hard. I am on the verge of tears constantly. I feel lost and beyond sad.
It's like a wound that superficially closed over but still brews infection. It looked okay but beneath the surface the infection has been pushing at the scab and pulsing. The pressure has been building and causing a lump to form. Suddenly, the wound has broken open again, spilling its' pus and reminding me of the initial injury. I scurry to find a band aid but what it really needs is fresh air and an occasional cleansing.
I have still have dreams that he's alive and I am happy. Suddenly, he can't breathe. Instead of trying to save him as I did in real life, I run away. I hide. He dies alone.
What I'm learning is that there is no convenient time for grieving. I can't hide. I have to feel this. I don't want to. I want to curl up in a ball and sleep. I am tired and I don't want to do this.
Written on Dec. '08...Nine months after Jeff died
I've been stuffing. I don't mean putting bread and spices into a turkey's nether regions. I mean my emotions.
It's been too painful to deal with this loss. I avoid Jeff's photos. I redirect my thoughts. I do things that seem to take the pain away for a moment. When I talk of the loss of Jeff, I refuse to feel the sadness. I push it down. I turn away. I try to forget. Like a door closed to a fire, the smoke eventually seeps under through the cracks.
I almost felt smug with this coping mechanism. I thought that I had found a way to survive with out crumbling at least once a day. We all hear that you 'should' allow yourself to feel emotions so they don't come back later to get you. But I guess I thought I was the exception. "I can do it", I told myself, "I'm strong." But it turns out that I'm not strong. I'm a coward. I've been hiding under a blanket and hoping that it will be gone when I emerge. Like a child hiding from a monster. But I am hiding from sadness, loneliness and fear.
But now, I can't hide. The last two days have been really hard. I am on the verge of tears constantly. I feel lost and beyond sad.
It's like a wound that superficially closed over but still brews infection. It looked okay but beneath the surface the infection has been pushing at the scab and pulsing. The pressure has been building and causing a lump to form. Suddenly, the wound has broken open again, spilling its' pus and reminding me of the initial injury. I scurry to find a band aid but what it really needs is fresh air and an occasional cleansing.
I have still have dreams that he's alive and I am happy. Suddenly, he can't breathe. Instead of trying to save him as I did in real life, I run away. I hide. He dies alone.
What I'm learning is that there is no convenient time for grieving. I can't hide. I have to feel this. I don't want to. I want to curl up in a ball and sleep. I am tired and I don't want to do this.
I'm so sorry, sweetie. I've been doing the same thing, which is why I think I haven't written about my latest trip - it might bring it out, and I don't want to deal with it right now - too much to do. ((((BIG HUGS)))) and loads of love to you, my friend.
ReplyDeleteI'm sorry that last few days have been tough. It's perfectly normal to feel as though things are going well and then have a bout of grief.
ReplyDeleteIt's also normal to divert yourself and focus on things other than your loss - no matter what anyone tells you. I never bought into the "leaning into the grief" thing. Grief has ebbs and flows. It's not something we need to "work" at. You will have periods of calm and periods of sadness. After a while, the calm times are the rule more than not and eventually, there's even content and happiness for the most part (which is really not so different from the way life was before).
We tend to find coping mechanisms that suit our personalities and needs. Don't worry about how others cope or what they think is the "right" way. You are probably doing just fine.
I'm so sorry you are feeling so much pain. BUT Sweetie you are not a Coward! Please don't think that way. You are human who has lost a loved one. I've been without my Larry for over nine years now. I too kept busy working & enjoying my Grandchildren so my thoughts would not linger on him. I even dated & had a relationship for over 3 years, but in the back of my head they never measured up to my Larry. It's something I'm trying to get over. I'm now retired & lately have noticed that I have been thinking of him more often & even feel his present. I'm dealing with it. I am going to start working on the house, repainted, etc. & spending more time with my Grandchildren. Keeping busy & active. Michele we are not cowards who hide, we are simply people who have lost a part of our lives & are trying to make it through day to day with our sanity & dignity. I hope you find the strength to do the same. JMallory
ReplyDeleteYou have taken a very brave step forward by sharing the feeling you are going through right now. Stay connected, know you are not alone. It is very hard but you can do this. There is not one right way to deal with grief and loss. In our weaknesses we find a higher source of strength. There are things we can not deal with alone and God understands that. Sometimes it is one day, one hour, one moment at a time. Remember to take deep breaths, drink lots of water to help the body cleanse itself of the toxins released during the process. Be gentle and kind to yourself. You are so right about the wound. It needs to heal from inside out. I was a stuffer and I didn't deal for over 30 years. Like I tell the AWP gals, deal now. Sending you a big ((hug)). Stay in touch with God and those who understand what you are going through. Take it one day, one moment at a time.
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