I've not been feeling well recently, and not in the physical way; in more of an emotional way. I've not been feeling up to participating in life, my joy in anything and everything has been dwindling, my eyes have been feeling that bit more watery and I've had a seething anger burning at the back of my throat, threatening to scream at anyone that even vaguely gets on my nerves.
I knew there must be a reason, but I had no idea. Did I just not want to go back to work next week? I like my job, and I don't mind too much whether I'm there or not; it can't be that.
Is it because I'm tired? I'm not sure I'm feeling that tired, just the regular amount (whatever that is)
Nothing seemed to match my emotions, nothing seemed linked. 'Maybe I'm getting ill, coming down with something, maybe I'll feel better for a sleep-in, or maybe if I do some meditation'
I knew Mother's Day was coming, how could I not? There are cards, gift ideas, and advertisements for afternoon tea's left-right-and-center, but it all kind of felt light and lacey, because I wasn't looking at it properly – I was only ever kind of looking at it in my periphery. Then while wondering why my mood was on the floor, the lace quickly became a weighted blanket, and it floored me.
It's like certain parts of my years are stained in sadness, a stain that marks a giant hole in my life, and Mother's Day sits in one of them stains.
In 2020, I lost my baby. I found out I was losing her around the end of March/start of April, I lost her in July, her funeral in August, her due date in October, then add in Christmas and Mother's Day, and my years start to feel like fields of land mines I'm trying to walk through.
I thought time would make it better, and on normal days it does feel better I guess, but on them special dates, it feels just as heartbreaking as it always did. I don't actually think it'll ever get completely better.
Something I've noticed over the last four years is how my grief holds hands with anger. They're best friends, they're always hanging out together, I never see one without the other! So my anger should have been the first giveaway that what I was feeling was grief.
Whether it's been my bedroom feeling too cluttered, my duvet not sitting in the right position while I'm asleep, a man cutting grass outside while I'm trying to sleep, or a man not hearing me say 'excuse me' and not getting out of my way at the self-scan in Tesco: it's not genuine anger (okay, maybe the guy clogging up the self scans was a bit genuine), it's grief.
And it's grief I'm still trying to figure out. I'm still new to this.
It just feels so heavy sometimes, it's too heavy for me to hold, but nobody else can hold it – it doesn't exist for anyone else. Everyone has their own version of grief and no one has the same one, none of us get dealt the same grief pack! That's the most frustrating part: my grief is mine and mine alone.
When it comes to grief, one of the main things I've learned is you've got to feel the feelings and do what you've got to do to get through. Acknowledging the emotions is hard, and a lot of the time it doesn't make much sense, but if you ignore them, them awful feelings will build up and erupt into something much worse.
Once I realised what I was feeling, I indulged in it. I allowed myself to wallow for a while, I let myself be angry, I let myself cry, and convinced myself I was going to stay indoors all day away from everyone. Then after a while, I found the strength to put on my makeup, brush my hair, and listen to Ariana Grande's new album (which is beautiful by the way) then I felt strong enough for a little trip to the shops.
I still felt rubbish, and my head still felt as if it had an elastic band tightened around it while wearing a headache in the shape of an eye mask, but I didn't feel as if I was drowning anymore; merely bobbing in the water with a life jacket on, waiting until I had enough energy to swim back to shore.
Grief isn't a one-size-fits-all, no version of grief has the same rules, and while mine had be tamed by a good cry, a shout, and a trip to the shop, that might not be the same for anyone else, or even the next time I get slapped in the face by it. What I think is important to remember is that it must be felt in whatever way feels best at that time.
And it's even though it's a lonely thing to experience, we should all take comfort in knowing we're not the only ones experiencing some type of grief; after all, as a quote I read at the start of my grief journey said - 'grief is simply love with nowhere to go.'
No comments:
Post a Comment