What am I learning about grief - my grief (everyone's grief is different, you know)?
I've read the "grief" list and I have a lot of the normal grief "things" like...
I find that writing helps me process the grief. I've had days when I didn't have time to sit down and write. On those days I took notes on pieces of paper - scribbled thoughts on scrap paper to put together later.
I've talked about the balance between necessary grieving and my health - a complication that most people don't have - at least not to this extent. Too much heavy, overwhelming grieving has physical consequences because of the combination of lupus and lung issues. It's so hard for me, at times, to pull myself out of that well of grief before it causes damage.
Ocean-deep grieving, lack of sleep, lack of quiet time, notes scribbled on scraps of paper, no time to write - all combined to leave me dangerously close to hospitalization.
Brushing my teeth one night, I looked up into the mirror and wondered how I got two black eyes - before I realized it was just very dark circles from lack of sleep and... whatever. Blah blah blah.
I don't mean to whine. I guess what all of that taught me is that I am fortunate to be able to write my pain - to write it out - to release enough grief through writing to keep that delicate balance (most of the time). It doesn't matter if the writing is good or not good - if it's read or not read. It's the physical and emotional act of writing that takes some of the pain from inside me and transfers it from my body - down through my arms - and out through my fingers - to the keyboard. When I don't write, the pain has nowhere to go - it backs up and has nowhere to go. (Does that make sense?)
Writing also gives me insight into how to help myself (on days that I care to help myself).
This may sound like I have it all figured out. I do not. Grief is liquid as the ocean and as impossible to contain. Grief will be what Grief will be and do what Grief does. I am not the boss of Grief.
All I can do is to take the next step and go where it leads.
I've read the "grief" list and I have a lot of the normal grief "things" like...
- fog brain
- forgetfulness
- certainty that I'm losing my mind
- exhaustion
- not caring about my own health or life
- can't sleep
- crying unexpectedly
- eat all the time or don't care about food at all
- can't process or organize thoughts
- things that seemed important before, seem senseless and useless now
I find that writing helps me process the grief. I've had days when I didn't have time to sit down and write. On those days I took notes on pieces of paper - scribbled thoughts on scrap paper to put together later.
I've talked about the balance between necessary grieving and my health - a complication that most people don't have - at least not to this extent. Too much heavy, overwhelming grieving has physical consequences because of the combination of lupus and lung issues. It's so hard for me, at times, to pull myself out of that well of grief before it causes damage.
Ocean-deep grieving, lack of sleep, lack of quiet time, notes scribbled on scraps of paper, no time to write - all combined to leave me dangerously close to hospitalization.
Brushing my teeth one night, I looked up into the mirror and wondered how I got two black eyes - before I realized it was just very dark circles from lack of sleep and... whatever. Blah blah blah.
I don't mean to whine. I guess what all of that taught me is that I am fortunate to be able to write my pain - to write it out - to release enough grief through writing to keep that delicate balance (most of the time). It doesn't matter if the writing is good or not good - if it's read or not read. It's the physical and emotional act of writing that takes some of the pain from inside me and transfers it from my body - down through my arms - and out through my fingers - to the keyboard. When I don't write, the pain has nowhere to go - it backs up and has nowhere to go. (Does that make sense?)
Writing also gives me insight into how to help myself (on days that I care to help myself).
This may sound like I have it all figured out. I do not. Grief is liquid as the ocean and as impossible to contain. Grief will be what Grief will be and do what Grief does. I am not the boss of Grief.
All I can do is to take the next step and go where it leads.
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