“How are you doing?”
“I’m good. It’s all good. I mean it’s difficult but I’m coping. I’m getting through. If it wasn’t for John then I don’t know what I’d do.”
The only true thing in my response is the statement about John.
I’m tired of crying. I’m tired of being sad. I’m tired of mourning.
I’ve been having a difficult time coming to terms with my grief. And my anger. At some points my anger was all-consuming which sometimes was a good thing because then I wasn’t crying so much. Or dwelling on the injustice of my situation and the coping skills that I didn’t have.
I needed to find a space where someone would listen to me. Where the focus would be on me. Not anyone connected to my real world. Not anyone who would also ask “how are your sisters?” Because do you know what? I needed to have someone to ask about me and ONLY about me. While I care about both of my sisters, I needed to have someone to focus only on my health and well-being. Selfish perhaps, but I needed this in order to be able to go forward. To have hope again.
I needed a non-judgemental atmosphere to be able to work out my grief and my subsequent dealing of the kaleidoscope of emotions that have overtaken me. A place where they wouldn’t say “they’re in a better place now” or “they must have loved each other so much to pass within the same year”. And while I still need more time to properly grieve, I feel that I have made some tremendous steps towards healing. Healing my heart, my soul and my mind.
I’ve been attending some one-on-one counselling but more importantly I’ve also been going to a grief therapy group for the past 6 weeks.
It’s nice to be able to have this one night a week where I can let it all go and it’s okay. To be able to cry. To be able to tell them the deepest dark secrets that are roaming around in my head and not have them think that I am crazy. Because believe me, I thought I was seriously slipping down that path. And to also hear that “hey, I’ve been doing that too” or “I thought that only I did that”. It’s comforting to know that I am not alone.
And you know what else? Once you say something out loud, it doesn’t seem that bad anymore. Somehow, somewhere the burden has been lifted off and I feel lighter. I feel like there is hope again. I feel like laughing and not feeling guilty about laughing.
I feel like it’s okay to be happy again. To be able to think and plan for the future.
It’s okay to say I am putting me first. I am putting my little family first.
Trust me, I’ve been very conflicted. I’ve been sometimes consumed by guilt and sadness for all the emotions wreaking havoc with my life.
I’ve also been extremely pissed off by some well-meaning comforters but while both my parents have died, there is a separate set of circumstances and a completely separate way to grieve for each one.
Relationships are funny that way.
You reap what you sow.
I’m not writing any of this to solicit sympathy but you need to know that I am more than a two dimensional blog post. I am more than Steven’s wife. I am more than John’s mama. I am more than a woman that lost both her parents in the course of one year. I am flawed. I am complex. I am simple.
Don’t judge me. I could be you.
