Honest, notes on grief

Simply: trying.

I’ve been trying.

I’ve been trying to move through my days and not let anything I’m feeling leak out into the humans around me.

I’ve been trying to be strong.

I think it can go without saying that I haven’t been doing the best. I’ve been trying too. I’ve been attempting to deal with this thing called grief and struggle against the voice inside my head that says I should be over it.

I’ve been attempting to deal with feeling like not enough a lot of days of the week- like I don’t measure up and am physically incapable of doing so.

I’ve been attempting to not feel like a third wheel- attempting to try so hard to not shut down and be an island.

I’ve been attempting to not feel like less than- which is different than not feeling like enough- trying not to feel like my pain and grief and lack of hope makes me weak.

I’ve been attempting to not give in to all these things.

And it’s really fucking hard.

I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again and again: I don’t like writing from the middle.

I don’t like putting things out into the world that feel hopeless or lacking the spirit I have inside.

I don’t like placing what I feel inside for everyone to see.

But what I’ve realized is my ability to see it- to fight it- even when I don’t feel like I’m winning- that’s hope.

My ability to show up even when it feels like it goes beyond what I’m capable of doing- that’s the spirit inside me.

And writing from the middle? That’s me fighting.

Choosing to write from the middle and choosing to call out the things that want me to hide and cry (which I’ll still cry- I’m only human) is me remembering that I’m stronger than I think.

When I was in church this morning God clearly reminded me that I was built for this.

Now, don’t get me wrong- you will never hear me state “god only gives me what I can handle” because I call bullshit.

I’ve many moments in life but prime example: I was not in anyway shape or form able to handle losing my mom when I was only 36.

What I am saying is that, the hard, hopeless seaming things; the grief, the singleness, the feeling lost- it may (it has) knock me down. It may push me under.

But, I will rebuild.

I’ve talked a lot about ruins lately. My letterboard still reads “the city will be rebuilt on her ruins” and well, to be honest, a lot of my life still feels like ruins.

But, I’m working on cleaning it up. On finding the foundation.

On rebuilding.

I’m trying.

I don’t know where you are.

I don’t know if you feel like you’re surrounded by ruins.

I don’t know if you feel like you don’t know what to do with your hands.

But I do know that all we need to do is keep trying.

I’m here with you.

You got this.

With love,

Meg

1 thought on “Simply: trying.”

  1. Oh Meg, 36 is way to young to lose your mom. You were just reaching the friends stage. It’s not fair. Never rush the grieving process. It’s there to be embraced. You if don’t give in to it now, you’ll just have to deal with it later. Hugs to you.

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