Grief is such a bitch

Grief is such a bitch.

It’s the most physical emotional experience I’ve ever encountered. It’s like the olympics of emotions. It requires so much of me and without my consent. It’s the first process of pain I’ve ever really had to submit to. There’s no amount of Advil, alcohol, drugs, sleep or Bravo TV that can make it disappear. A year into it and I’ve found myself searching Tik Tok for the Dr. Miami of Grief because I’d beg borrow and steal to be able to snip and cut it away.

I didn’t even realize another wave of grief was hitting me. I’ve been fine”ish” for months. I cry every now and again for a few minutes and then I’m able to jump back up. But my Body knew something I’ve been avoiding. Maybe avoiding is a bit inaccurate. I’ve been using all the tools Farah (the Lady/My Therapist) has been teaching me. So I thought, I’d be prepared for my months of many anniversaries— aka my 1 Year Later. Clearly I’m not. I’ve been irritable. My head hurts. I’m exhausted and slow, and finally today I broke. I went on my daily”ish” walk around the neighborhood pond and stream and I found myself sobbing uncontrollably a short distance from 2 ducks. I was embarrassed (because I let the ducks see me this way), raw and humbled. I am no match for grief. Grief is in charge.

The thought that triggered this break— “It’s been a hard year.” And indeed it has been a very difficult 12+ months. Not consistently. I did have significant losses throughout 2023 year with the loss of a childhood friend, and my job. but it was the loss of my baby whom I had already made space for in my heart, and the loss of my only brother that took me completely out. I took a big hit to my identity, last year; and on this gorgeous Long Island morning, with the early morning sun doing what it does when the weather is perfect, It dawned on me that I had really experienced absolute and utter terror and tragedy, in my real life and it 100% fucking sucks.

I wanted so badly to be better by now. Removed from my feelings, distanced from the visuals of both of those traumatic days. But as I’ve read recently— the body has a way of keeping score. My body often remembers days before I can even identify that the physical anguish I’m experiencing, is grief. So far the longest I’ve gone without realizing I was having a wave of grief, has been a week. But BAYBEEEE when that wave crashes— the Atlantic Ocean has nothing on Grief. It’s a complete wipe out. I’m incapacitated; Frozen; a prisoner in my own body and mind. The prison is dark, stuffy and it burns from the inside out.

I don’t really have a purpose in writing this outside of hoping these words help me get through this wave with grace. I’ve just passed the 1 year of my miscarriage and the day my brother passed is quickly approaching. I guess in my need for other people to have grace for me, my hope is writing this post allows me to have a little grace for myself.

The summer now has different meaning for me post 2023. So if you see me in the streets at all between the months of May and September, please be kind.