The Journey I Never Wanted to Take

Hey.

I'm waving my hand over here…letting everyone know that yes, I am indeed, still alive.


Still living…still breathing…but mainly still grieving, actually, over the loss of my Dad over a month ago.

That's probably what I'm dealing with the most, and so it's hard - really hard - to find uplifting, inspiring, humorous things to post about - when I'm still mired in the grieving process. I can't find my snark, or my mojo, or even my energy, for that matter.

Sigh.


I thought it would be easier.

I thought I would bounce back - as I normally do after something knocks me on my butt - with my usual speed, strength and resiliency.

But, nope.

Not this time.

This picture says it all:




I don't think a day has gone by that I haven't shed tears for Dad…it doesn't take much to trigger a flood of emotions and tears that can catch me off-guard and feeling like someone punched me in the gut, leaving me wiped out and gutted afterwards. I see Dad's picture…or I hear a song…or a thought or memory will pop into my head for no reason - and I'm a puddled mess of salty tears and wrenching sobs.

Sleeping has been difficult…I can count on one hand the number of nights I've been able to sleep through the entire night…as my new normal seems to be me, waking up - wide awake - at 2:30 or 3:00 a.m. And of course, trying to get back to sleep is next to impossible.

This sucks.


My mom, brother and I went to a class last week on dealing with grief during the holidays…and it was surprisingly very helpful. It was cathartic to talk to others who are going through very similar journeys right now, and my only wish was that it was an ongoing group. Unfortunately, it was a one-time only class, and so I'm in the process of trying to find something in my neighborhood that would offer some sort of support.

Speaking of support…my family, my girlfriends, and my co-workers have been amazing. No one is pushing me to "get over it" or to hurry the process, and that's very much appreciated. If anything, I'm the guilty party of putting pressure on myself to "get over it" and move on. And I know better, but I can't help it.

The grief process is a journey…and sometimes we move forward…sometimes we move backwards…sometimes we get lost and stuck…and I seem to be doing a bit of everything. I'm here. I'm there. I'm progressing. I'm regressing.

Sigh.

I'm doing okay, though. I get up. I dress. I work. I run. I cook. I mother. I love.

But mainly?

I hurt.


Peace.