Grief Refuses to Follow Any Rules

silver at Pacific Beach

In other words, grief is a brat who always gets his own way.  I already knew this, but I learned it in a new way yesterday.  I’ve been feeling… well, if not GOOD, exactly, a little better.  I’ve felt that my therapy and medication and online support and support from family and friends and the reading I’ve been doing have been helping.  Not a day goes by that I don’t cry, and grieve Tony, and struggle with everything that’s happened.  I’ve been able to get out of bed, though, and function, and work and interact and all of that.

Until yesterday.

Yesterday morning I put up my post about rearranging the alphabet.  I had been up very early, feeling weepy and nostalgic.  I’ve had that post written for weeks.  I published it, and then completely melted down.  I went and talked to my sister for a while, and then I crawled back into bed and didn’t crawl back out until after 2:00.  I truly had to force myself out of bed, even after lying there all morning and into the afternoon.  I just felt empty.  I had no energy, no drive, no thought beyond thinking that I just couldn’t and didn’t want to move, ever again. 

I got up.  I made myself eat.  I didn’t shower or get dressed or put on makeup or any of the things that I’ve been doing to help myself get through the days.  My niece put on The Princess Bride to cheer me up, and that did help a little.  And then we watched Finding Nemo and had tortellini and I went to bed early and slept through the night.

This morning, it was a little easier.  I have to admit, though, that the intensity of yesterday threw me.  I thought, on some level, that I was past feeling like that.  That I could get through the day with a couple of weepy periods and some anger, but without that crushing feeling of loss and inertia that I felt in the first weeks after Tony died.  I was wrong.

I wrote before about the stages of grief and how they’re not linear.  That was an understatement.  What they are is a labyrinth.  What they are is brutal and unforgiving and disobedient, and they will loop back around and drop you someplace you thought you’d left behind for good.  What I learned today, though, is that you will get picked up again.  You will be feeling better again.  Today I got up and put on a pretty outfit and worked and went outside and enjoyed the sunshine at lunch.  After work I worked out and now I am writing.  I am still shaken by yesterday, but I am not where I was then.  Maybe I learned something from it, too, about being patient with myself and letting myself experience each day as it comes.  If I end up somewhere unexpected, that doesn’t mean it’s wrong.

I am okay today.  I am okay.  I will be okay.


8 thoughts on “Grief Refuses to Follow Any Rules

  1. Yes, be patient with yourself. You are patient with others, do yourself the same kindness. It is not a setback to have a bad day, it is progression of your grief. ❤

  2. I’m sorry to hear that you had such a rough day. Having lost my step-dad recently and suddenly, I know this feeling – that grief seems to be a constant loop. There are days where his death hits me as if it just happened that same day. Then there are other days that go by with only a few ‘down’ moments. It’s a rollercoaster for sure. My heart feels for you, your pain and your loss.

  3. You are so smart to recongnize this “rollercoaster”, Amy! You will be ok…because you want to be. Sending lots of light always~

  4. Just found this before I read your post: “Most of the greatest achievements on the planet are unknown to others- private overcomings, silent attempts at belief, re-opening a shattered heart. The real path of champions truly lies within- the transforming of suffering into expansion, the clearing of horrifying debris, the building of a healthy self-concept without tools. The greatest achievers have found a way to believe in something good despite being traumatized and fractured on life’s battlefields. We are all champions, in our own unique ways.” And I love you.

  5. A rollercoaster for sure or like swimming in an ocean and sometimes trying to keep your head above the waves. Calmer seas will come. I find myself going along and then I fall down, but so far I’ve kept getting back up.

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