This Roller Coaster Called Grief

I shared this on the Team Capp page, and thought I'd post here as well: 

I write. I write not to get attention, or for pity, or for comments. I write because it helps me, to share my thoughts. I write to to show that we don't always have to pretend that everything is fine and that pain and sadness don't exist. I write to show that we don't always have to put on a smile and act like things are fine and dandy when they're not-we should be able to express pain and heartache, because it's a part of life. I write to help others who are going through the same thing, or similar situations. I write to share my reality, so that maybe others will have a better understanding of what grief is like...because at some point, all of us will face it.

I wish I could say things were better now, 7 months after he's been gone. But, I've read that the 6 month, or even sometimes the 1-2 year mark is almost harder than the first few months, and I have found that to be true. See, the fog has lifted, the reality has sunk in, and life has gone on. You start to realize more and more what you miss about your person, you start to feel the emptiness of their absence almost more as time goes on. It no longer feels like they're just on a long trip that they'll be coming back from soon. You realize you have the to live the rest of your life without them, and that sucks, especially when that person was everything good about your life. You start to worry about the future and wonder if you'll ever be happy again, because it's so hard to imagine that you could, not when you had something so great.

This is how life has been going lately...

So I had this post all written out yesterday about how I had a “good” day, about how I didn’t cry once all day, my heart didn’t hurt, and I didn’t feel anxious. I wrote about how I felt like I was coming out of the horrible grief wave I was in over the holidays, how I felt like I could breathe again, at least for that day. And I thought, surely this will continue into the next day, I thought maybe I’d have a few days to float on the peaceful waters.

But that shows how much you have no control over grief. I intended to have a good day yesterday, like I did the day before, but it ended up being one of those sad, depressing, crying every hour kind of days. The missing him, the anxious feelings, the sadness, the emptiness was back again.

I know that eventually, I’ll get used to this just being a part of my life-the roller coaster of emotions, the good and bad days, the grief waves that hit you out of nowhere, the tears that come with no rhyme or reason. It’s just such a strange thing-I’m not used to such fluctuating emotions. I’ve always been a pretty even-tempered, positive and upbeat, calm, go with the flow type of person. I’ve always been able to control my emotions. For the last 15 years, even though I went through some hard times, for the most part, I was happy and content. And I had Matt to keep me steady.

So this is all so new to me, these feelings. Not being happy and joyful is contradictory to who I’ve always been. So it will take some time to be “okay” with this new person, this person who carries around a profound sadness in her heart, always. The sadness will never go away, I don’t think. With that being said, that doesn't mean I won't ever be happy again, or that I don't have moments of happiness right now-I do. I can be happy and sad....at the same time. And maybe one day the happiness will overpower the sadness. One day there will come a time when I will have more good days than bad... but now is not that time.

Right now it's a roller coaster of emotions, emotions that change from minute to minute sometimes. It's a mix good days and bad days and horrible days and okay days. It's having fleeting moments of happiness and hope for the future, and then moments of such utter pain and anguish that you just want to close your eyes and never wake up. It's trying to just live in the moment and take it day by day, but then not being able to help the panic that sometimes creeps in at the thought of never being happy again.
It's breathing through those moments when the pain hits you out of the blue; it's being patient with yourself on the days you feel like a failure; it's taking care of yourself and finding what things DO bring you some moments of happiness and then doing more of those things; it's having friends you can be real with, who don't judge or try to fix you, and who make you laugh. It's knowing grief has no timeline and no orderly stages and that it is OKAY to feel exactly how you feel right now.

And as a book I'm reading talks about, it's not about avoiding grief, or running from it, or trying to get out of it as fast as possible. It's about facing it directly and learning how to live with it, how to survive inside the pain. It's letting yourself feel it....but also choosing not to let it keep you down forever.

"Bowing to the mystery of grief and love is such a different response than fixing it. Coming to your own broken heart with a sense of respect and reverence honors your reality. It gives you space to be exactly as you are, without needing to clean it up or rush through it. Something in you can relax. The unbearable becomes just that much easier to survive.

Finding the middle ground of grief happens only when we turn our gaze to face it directly. When we allow the reality of grief to exist, we can focus on helping others--and one another--survive inside pain.

The new model of grief is not in cleaning it up and making it go away; it's in finding new and beautiful ways to inhabit what hurts." -Megan Devine from "It's OK That You're Not OK"