There comes a point in the day, week, or month that you feel like you’ve cried enough. That you’ve come to a point where there are no more tears inside your body; that any more will lead to dehydration & that it is physically impossible to shed one more drop. And then you’re wrong.
In the hospital I could barely function without sobbing. The days leading up to and following Bryan’s death feel like an endless and constant stream of tears. I’m still unsure how one person can produce that many tears without serious negative side effects.
And in some ways, that’s not really where I’m at right now. On the daily, I feel like I hold it together pretty well in public. Exception: 3 days ago when I violently cried in Argo Tea. Glamour.
But, for the most part, I’ve gone from constant uncontrollable/painful/hot tears & the feeling that my entire body is ripping in two, to where I am now…
Privately grieving.
(I write on the Internet for the world to see.)
I guess what I’m saying is that I can’t process this verbally. I physically cannot bring myself to speak words about it. It’s too hard. It hurts too much. And probably, on some level, I don’t want to talk about it. Mainly because I don’t know what to say.
Q: “How are you doing?”
A: “Shitty.”
* That is how I feel. *
So, at 1 AM, I sit on this couch and I think about what has happened.
At 1 AM, I write this blog.
At 1 AM I actually let myself “talk” about it.
I guess what I’m saying is that I often feel like two different people:
Daytime Jessie
Relatively put-together
Pays her bills on time
Cooks meals for herself (sometimes)
Helps foster a cat
Frequently runs by choice
Is late a lot & lives in mild squalor (Keepin’ it real)
1 AM Jessie
Cries a lot
Writes a blog (about crying a lot?)
It’s important to note that if I need to talk about it I have multiple genuine standing invitations to do so. (Which I am forever grateful for) But for the most part we don’t talk about it. Because really– what is there to say?
Q: “How are you doing?”
A: “Shitty.”
Ariel once told me that you are physically shorter at night than you are in the morning. You start every morning a couple of inches taller. As the day progresses, gravity and life take a toll on you and you shrink. Because science.
That’s what this process feels like.
In the morning you have all the energy and stamina to hold it together. You have full faith in your ability to manage your feelings & get through the day successfully. Then, as reality takes hold it gets harder. As hours pass life becomes more difficult and that part of you starts to shrink.
So, I don’t know. I don’t know what the next months, weeks, days, or even hours will bring. Each day is another challenge. Another memory or realization. Every day feels like another goodbye. But, I guess it’s about baby steps. It’s about keeping up hope that you will continue to start tomorrow a few inches taller. Or maybe it’s simply about refusing to shrink forever.
<3
