I’m quite certain I’ve cycled through all of the stages of grief in the last five days. I don’t have much left to share because I don’t have much left to give. As I looked back at the blog tonight, trying to break the fog, I found a post that I’d buried. I wrote it in the midst of frustration and anger. Obviously, I don’t always feel like that. Yet, I remember that night, I needed to get the feelings out.
I was then embarrassed.
Not enough to delete it because I figured the people who read the blog without me sharing posts would understand without judging, but I wasn’t secure enough in sharing that part of grief to actually share the post as I do the others. The result was a mere 13 views (and most were probably me checking, out of panic, to see if anyone would read my anger).
Without much to give tonight, I’ve decided to share that original post. It’s a part of grief. It’s part of the journey. It’s part of the roller coaster of the last 5 days, of the last year. I’m not in that place right now, but I’ve been there, and I’m sure I’ll be there again. It’s another one of those important pieces that doesn’t get talked about. On that note, here you go.
Being strong sucks.
It really does, sometimes.
I’m not a big in public crier. Something in me likes to stay somewhat poised. I tend to be less articulate when I let the tears out, so how can I effectively convey my thoughts when I can’t form a coherent sentence? I cry at home, in the car in the grocery store parking lot, in my room (oh, so many tears are held in that room), and a few times in an empty room at church when I could feel the really loud, uncontrollable stuff coming on. I’ve had silent tears fall in dressing rooms and restaurant tables. I’ve held my sobbing children and quietly let my heaving chest and tears on their heads tell them that they are not alone in their pain.
I also get angry. I’m equally good at not letting that anger show. Tonight, I suppose, I just really…
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