My very first post on this blog was a little over six months ago, and to put it mildly, I expected my posts would be much more frequent. The ideas were flowing like crazy. They still do, really, on a near-constant stream in my head.
So where’s all the writing, then?
Well, I’ve found that when you start a blog on grief, you run into some challenges:
- Most topics you want to write about are… a bummer. What makes me grieve? I wrote a major, thesis-statement kind of post on this about four months ago. Death, disability and disease, and disappointments. Paaaaaaaarty. 😐 Doesn’t always inspire me to get out the laptop and dive into those feelings.
- You remain a prisoner of perfection. You don’t want to write if it isn’t just-so. You accumulate a draft folder of 70% incomplete and supposedly decent pieces.
- You feel like you have to know it all. I mean, I am grieving, to be sure, about many things. But when I attach my name to a blog about grief… well, who the hell am I to suggest how someone else handles their pain? What about me has achieved any mastery over the grieving process? I’m flailing around as much as anybody, if not much moreso.
- You’re scared. Because to be transparent, to be vulnerable, is to risk criticism… or, even worse, to just fall apart.
I was in therapy last week, and I mentioned wanting to write in a tear-filled shake voice, but only in passing, quickly pivoting to another topic of concern.
My therapist didn’t let me off the hook.
Therapist: What are you so afraid of?
Me: [through snot bubbles] Of falling apart. I don’t have the time. Even if I need to… I can’t come undone.
Therapist: Well, okay, but you’re so resilient. I can tell. So tell me, if a 1 is “no big deal, bounce back,” and a 10 is “stays in bed for days,” where will you fall if you write?
Fam…. let’s just find out, shall we? 🙂
I’m shunning the voice inside worried about lovely transitions and error-free sentiments… I’m just going to do this.
One of my biggest inspirations for starting this blog is to help people feel less alone in their grief.
And you know what time of year it is? “The most wonderful time of the year,” allegedly.
But you know what? I feel pretty sure that MANY of us are STRUGGLING MIGHTILY. I’ll go first, using my grief nacho recipe…
- Death
This will be the second Christmas without my mom. This will be my husband’s family’s first Christmas without my sister-in-law. There are still reasons for joy, of course, but there’s a strong sense of sadness about what lies ahead.
- Disability and Disease
I’ll level with you: autism is breaking my heart right now. It’s a major source of grief. It shouldn’t be news to me, but it’s really hitting me in the face right now that wherever I thought my boy would be by now, he is not. Readers: don’t you DARE give me shit saying I shouldn’t grieve my son. I love my son; grieving the struggles he faces because of autism is another thing, and it’s allowed. I grieve that he cries in misery AND CANNOT TELL ME WHAT IS WRONG… that isn’t something I’m recalling about his infanthood. This is something I’m recalling about this afternoon, in my car. He is 11. It is agony not being able to understand how to help him. It’s agony for him to be unable to express it. I could write for days and days on this. I am not at all without hope, to be clear. I know that God has great plans for him. But Christmastime tends to exacerbates his struggles. And it’s another thing that makes me feel like everyone else with kids is having a technicolor holiday that’s the happiest ever while we struggle mightily. Clark Griswold said it best: “Hallelujah! Holy Shit! Where’s the Tylenol?”
- Disappointments
I’m 5.5 years into staying at home with my kids. I still feel aimless… and like what I hoped for the time hasn’t come to pass. My house is more and not less of a mess; Luke’s progress is nothing near what I hoped it would be; and Lord knows my intentions to be as fit as I have ever been have *ahem* not been realized. The things that matter most are the best ever – my marriage, my healthy children, my awesome family, and my tight circle of dear friends. But I find myself yearning to be proud of myself. And I’m still figuring that out.
That’s a succinct overview of my Season’s Grieving. I know it’s odd to share…
…but I know so many others that I love are experiencing similar things.
Departed loved ones you can only visit graveside.
Beloved family members and friends fighting cancer.
Betrayal at the hands of someone you loved and trusted.
Disappointment with yourself for putting yourself at the bottom of the list too many times.
Anger at yourself for putting yourself at the top of the list too many times.
Whatever the case may be: we’re not alone. We’re grieving different things, but maybe we can feel a little better knowing we aren’t alone.
Anyway… what generally happens about now is I think and think about the perfect ending to a post.
But I know from all the drafts that if I do that for too long, and I’ll never publish the post.
And this time of year can’t be that way.
So… may our Season’s Grieving be healthy. Yes, healthy. May we feel all of our feelings, even the ugly ones. May we allow ourselves the experiences of joy and gratitude and rest. And may we find good company along the way.
(Okay, for real now, I’m just going to stop typing so I can publish this and say I have posted a blog. Boom. Okay. Save. Publish…!)
