Hit the deck

Last night the LCSW leading the bereavement group said, 'you all write your own book on grieving'. He said he is loth to give us a reading list, though he will. He is so good at what he does, gently guiding us through this mind field. When I did my check in he replied, 'carrying a boulder'. Who knew.

I feel like I'm miscarrying this morning, though I never had a miscarriage. I'm trying to carry something to fruition, yet it escapes me. I do not know how to not do what I am doing. I don't know how to do what I am doing. I told Rich this morning, I don't know what to do. The answer came back, you also don't know how to be.

I've got chills and my hair is on ends. I don't know if it is cold in the house, or it is cold in me. My insides are blocked, everything came up through my neck, my face hurts. It made no difference to wail.

Pretty sure I'm 'over doing'. Sitting still is impossible. I know how to be other things but not this. Beyond the scope of inadequacy. Mentally reminding myself that this is appropriate, normal, is leaving me cold on the inside. A death.

I've thrown myself into efficiency but it didn't beat back the demons of feeling like a fake. My body knows better I guess. My own blank pages.

The 'telling' last night, another 'widow' describing her long relationship and quick demise of that connection. Stomach cancer. I must be crazy. What the heck do I want to look in a mirror for? It is what I signed up for. On purpose. I felt so heavy even before I got to the group.

There is stuff on my list that I do not want to do, because of the finality. I have attempted to stay ahead of the ball, with a limited amount of success. Very limited. I need to have an extra head and heart to do this. He's gone and life goes on.

Time.
(August 2006)