I really went through it the other night. Again.
It’s been over a year since I experienced the most difficult breakup and goodbye of my life.
I’m through the worst of it. The laying on the floor sobbing into the thickest quilts I own. The foggy head and heart. The isolation pretending to be independence. The sudden sadness anywhere and everywhere.
But the other night, just before bed, I felt it again—not quite as strong as a year ago—but the familiar ache settled into my chest.
I pulled the covers up and over my head. I squeezed my eyes shut like the mistakes I made were right there in front of my face instead of burned into my memory.
“How long is this going to take,” I thought. Because I really thought I’d beaten the thing. The heartbreak, I mean.
I guess because I moved I thought that meant I’d moved on.
But Lee posted this on my covers-over-the-head night as if the universe told her I needed it. I empathized. I didn’t want someone to be in the same boat as me…but I wanted to know that it’s ok to be in that boat, for just a little while at least. I felt the pain in her words, too, and identified with the shattered heart living behind the swollen eyes. I’ve seen it in my mirror more than a few times.
Healing from grief is not linear. I love that, even if I hate going through it.
It’s like this.
One day it won’t.
My loss is still very tangible and heavy, but I can only allow it to exist, give it some space to stay, and let it go when it needs. And then move on. It’s a process that’s different for everyone, and not an easy one, either. Slowly, over time, I think the waves will get smaller and less frequent.
I didn’t get much sleep that night but I did everything I could the next day and the following few days to feel better—things that didn’t involve wrapping myself in a duvet burrito.
Instead I did new things.
I make smoothies at work now. It’s so fun. The Vitamix is on another level; it could probably turn car parts into liquid.
^^^ Spinach, carrot, frozen mixed berries, frozen peaches, protein powder, water, ice. BLEND!
And I’ve been washing my bike at work. Maybe it’s silly but I believe part of self-care is taking care of something else—something that means a lot to you. This bike and being on it brings me so much happiness, and that’s important to me right now. So I really gave her a good scrub down one afternoon. Bonus: there are very few things more therapeutic than scrubbing the hell out of a bike chain…and then the grease from underneath your fingernails.
I watched the snow, too. It really came down the other night, so I parked myself on the floor next to the window and watched it accumulate inch by inch.
I almost didn’t share this because I think I thought I was hurting too much. Like there was a limit on the amount of pain I was supposed to feel and then the time it’s supposed to take to get over it. There’s not. There isn’t.
So I am sharing this post because I want to pass on Lee’s message, especially. I want you to know and believe, if you’re feeling the feels like I was and am, it’ll pass. Maybe it’ll take it’s time and maybe it’ll stick around for a week, but it will see it’s way out. And maybe try doing new things yourself. It’s helping the healing.
Push on, PUSH ANIMALS >>>