Grief. The Oxford English definition is ‘intense sorrow, especially caused by someone’s death’. I realise that this grieving malarky – and I do not intend to trivialise it, is something me, myself, I have to go through. Toute seule. I am not enjoying nor finding the process an easy one. One of my closest friends described her grief and beginning to deal with it as ‘opening the lid of a box of treasure, just a tiny bit, then having to close it quickly because it is too painful to go there.’ I so get it…
Life goes on. I have felt barely alive these past months having had whatever share was apportioned to me, and for whatever reason. My creativity and willingness to go deep inside myself to understand the meaning, the why, the why not — all but vanished. Yet here I am. I did not know if I could ever write again, feeling so numb. Faith and reading have stirred me, prompted and nudged me to look at this huge emotion and face it head on. I have been averting my eyes, not daring to go there, knowing the pain was almost unbearable. I do try to get things into perspective, cognisant that there is always someone in a worse situation, yet still I am experiencing profound sadness deep inside.
I am not particularly pro-active in raising my paw and asking for help. I enjoy analysing, even over-analysing about ideas, feelings and situations. This is something I feel ill-equipped for. A number of important people in my life have passed away within the last couple of years. It has scorched me inside and left me smouldering, those ashes so very very fragile but preserving the memories they evoke. I had never witnessed someone I love dearly suffer before and go through that whole shutting down of a human body scenario ever. I do not wish to do it again.
Even as I write I am only allowing myself to go so far beneath the surface. The depths are too black, too morbid to even contemplate and not something I am able to fathom, yet alone share with my readers. My expectation is that I will be churned out of this cycle better equipped, wiser and more empathetic to the needs of other souls who are struggling to keep their mouths above the meniscus.
So here it is, my first trembling step back from the brink. Forgive any grammatical errors and such like. Thank you for reading my rambling thoughts and to those of you who love and support me, bisous… You know who you are, and I love you.