It's not the first time I've felt like this. But I don't remember it lasting quite as long.
Before seeing my doc, I looked through a notebook I keep in my purse. I found some notes I took at the beginning of the year at a John Edwards (of psychic fame) show.
"The first year of grief," he said, "is the coasting year."It's the second year that is really hard for the griever because they have to deal with the loss of their support as well as the loss of the person.
Actually, in our society, a year is on the long side. Unlike other cultures where wailing and carrying on is expected, and professional "wailers" are hired, people in the western civilizations are expected to "get back to normal" go back to work, carry on like nothing every happened. In other words, pack that grief up in a nice little box, tie a bow on it you want, but put it up in the attic where the others memories are kept.
The fact that I have not had a job to go to is a luxury I'm not ashamed to admit to. At the same time, I think maybe if I had another something(s) to keep my mind occupied, I wouldn't be so sad all the time. And maybe, it's like Alana has told me, grief is like a spiral and some unknown force seems to know when it is time for the spiral to turn and grief to rise up another notch.
That's where I am today. Ever since the trees fell, I seem to be waiting for the next catastrophe. I can't see around the corner, but my body is pretty sure there's a boogie man there. I don't think I want to change my medications, so I'm going to rely on the self-care things I'm learning. It is time to be still, to go to a quiet place in my "heart center" and breathe.
If there's a wildebeast in your vicinity, I wish for you swift flight. But if beast is of your own making, I wish for you a calm, quiet, gentle heart beat.
Thanks for listening,