They ask, “Is it getting easier?”
They mean well.
People want it to be easier. They want to think that it’s “getting better”, “getting easier”, “not as hard”.
It isn’t easier. It isn’t better. It is hard, every single day.
In many, many ways, these past few weeks (maybe months) have been harder than the first few weeks.
Grief progresses, but it is sloppy and unpredictable, and oh so very painful.
I disagree with this popular “7 Stages of Grief” being called “stages”. Excuse me, but that’s bullshit. (Yes, I swore. I don’t know a better word today.)
I understand the premise. I’ve felt and experienced many of the so called “stages”, but they are not STAGES, and shouldn’t be called “stages”.
I don’t think grief is that linear, that orderly. I don’t think you “make it through” those stages and WAHLA, you’ve survived.
There are no steps. There are distinct elements to grief, but the way they choose to fall, the way they ebb and flow is as unique as the heart carrying the weight of it all.
Grief swirls. Grief rolls like the tide. Grief crashes like waves. Grief falls and blows and drifts like snow.
Grief is now part of me. Part of my life experience. Part of who I am.
I will not ever be the same. I am permanently changed by grief.
I’m having to get to know myself in a new way.
I will find my way, but I won’t “get over it”.
I am forever marked by both love and loss.
I’m not wallowing in it. I hope people don’t perceive it like that. It is part of the fiber of who I am.
I can’t will it away or make it “less” just by trying harder.
And I wouldn’t want to.
I can’t “let go” of grief any more than I can let go of love.
I’m sorry if you love me and are having to watch me live in so much pain. I’m sorry if you’re one of the ones that get the desperate texts when I’m falling apart at the seams. I imagine watching me grieve feels horrific. Thank you for being there in the depths of this with me. You don’t have to know what to say.
I imagine one day that there will be a quiet strength that slowly rises out of depths of this pain and settles in my spirit.
I imagine that one day I’ll be able to give again.
But for now, I’m grieving deeply. 8 months of deep, crushing pain.
You will see me smile. You will see me celebrate life.
You will see me loving the ones dearest to me.
Celebration and Mourning coexist. I am both. Always both.
At times, one will suddenly overtake the other, and for a few moments I will Celebrate with full strength. And then in other moments, grief will take over, and I will Grief with all of my being.
It’s ok. This is how it works.
I am a woman who loves, celebrates, grieves, breaks, stands up, walks, falls down, carries love, is buried by pain, lifts her head high, and crawls into a cave.
I am a woman who is becoming.
And, no, this is far from “easier”.