Grief is violating.
Words I never thought I would think. Or speak. Or type.
I was just finishing up a spin/cycle class. Something I just recently started doing and really enjoy. We hit the cool down and I was feeling goooood. I am a cardio junkie so anytime my heart rate goes up for an extended period of time I feel like I could conquer the world. That nothing was going to stop me. Until that song started playing. That song that stopped me in my pedals. That song that reminded me of the deep grief that I am walking through. The song that reminded me that my brother, Rory, is gone. That I will not see him this side of Heaven. I lost it. I mean I was almost sobbing in a room of full of 18 people. I got off my bike and walked away. I know I shouldn't have felt embarrassed but I did. I gathered my composure and called Levi. At this point I felt so angry. Angry that Rory's death has robbed me of many things. Things that I never even considered. That is when I called Levi and spoke those words...grief is violating. It takes things that doesn't belong to it. It takes moments...time, away. This is not the first instance where this has happened to me and I assume that it will not be the last. I have had some time to think this over and it has left me with some questions. Will it always be this way? Will I one day be able to think about Rory without my heart feeling crushed? And at one point do I tell my emotions that enough is enough?
For awhile now (I am talking a long while, since I took a class called the Psychology of Death and Dying @ Sierra College) I have felt that the definition of grief is the loss of an expectation. Whatever that expectation might have been, you expected your marriage to work out, you expected to have your dream job, you expected to graduate with honors, you expected (fill in the blank). How we deal with those loses really does impact how we function day to day. Some days I don't deal with my loses very well.
I have days where I have dreamt about Rory, watch something that reminded me that I wasn't mentally present for Addison's birth, thought back to her first weeks on this earth and how stressful they were, and it has derailed me. I am grouchy, defensive to everything (I just feel like everyone is attacking me or my own little world is being attacked), quick tempered or just straight up depressed. I hate those days, because they hit me out of no where and I don't know how to handle them. They take away my present. I am learning to not let it steal anymore of my joy but I am not great at that. But on the other hand I do believe that when you have suffered a great loss that every happy moment will be tainted by sadness. Maybe I am wrong, maybe someday I won't think that. It's hard if someone asks you what's wrong because somedays it's tiring to say, I miss my brother or I am just having a hard time coping with the loss of my expectant birth plan. I begin to feel that people are tired of my grief. So I say I am fine, tired, yada yada yada. I think that part of my healing and learning to deal with where I am at is giving myself permission to feel that pain. Maybe not letting it engulf me if I am in a place that I don't feel safe or I need to be present for my child. But that still leaves me wondering how much do I let into my head space. I know that talking (writing) about it helps. That it gives my thoughts an outlet.
I do know that through this journey that I am learning more about who Jesus is to me. I am learning that prayer is worth it. That in those moments of robbery I can cry out to God and know that he hears me. That he mourns with me. That he gives me comfort. I am pulling my thoughts together and will write about that process.
I don't write this to gain sympathy, judgement, or accolades. I do it simply because I hope that it helps my healing process. Who knows, it may help yours as well.
Words I never thought I would think. Or speak. Or type.
I was just finishing up a spin/cycle class. Something I just recently started doing and really enjoy. We hit the cool down and I was feeling goooood. I am a cardio junkie so anytime my heart rate goes up for an extended period of time I feel like I could conquer the world. That nothing was going to stop me. Until that song started playing. That song that stopped me in my pedals. That song that reminded me of the deep grief that I am walking through. The song that reminded me that my brother, Rory, is gone. That I will not see him this side of Heaven. I lost it. I mean I was almost sobbing in a room of full of 18 people. I got off my bike and walked away. I know I shouldn't have felt embarrassed but I did. I gathered my composure and called Levi. At this point I felt so angry. Angry that Rory's death has robbed me of many things. Things that I never even considered. That is when I called Levi and spoke those words...grief is violating. It takes things that doesn't belong to it. It takes moments...time, away. This is not the first instance where this has happened to me and I assume that it will not be the last. I have had some time to think this over and it has left me with some questions. Will it always be this way? Will I one day be able to think about Rory without my heart feeling crushed? And at one point do I tell my emotions that enough is enough?
For awhile now (I am talking a long while, since I took a class called the Psychology of Death and Dying @ Sierra College) I have felt that the definition of grief is the loss of an expectation. Whatever that expectation might have been, you expected your marriage to work out, you expected to have your dream job, you expected to graduate with honors, you expected (fill in the blank). How we deal with those loses really does impact how we function day to day. Some days I don't deal with my loses very well.
I have days where I have dreamt about Rory, watch something that reminded me that I wasn't mentally present for Addison's birth, thought back to her first weeks on this earth and how stressful they were, and it has derailed me. I am grouchy, defensive to everything (I just feel like everyone is attacking me or my own little world is being attacked), quick tempered or just straight up depressed. I hate those days, because they hit me out of no where and I don't know how to handle them. They take away my present. I am learning to not let it steal anymore of my joy but I am not great at that. But on the other hand I do believe that when you have suffered a great loss that every happy moment will be tainted by sadness. Maybe I am wrong, maybe someday I won't think that. It's hard if someone asks you what's wrong because somedays it's tiring to say, I miss my brother or I am just having a hard time coping with the loss of my expectant birth plan. I begin to feel that people are tired of my grief. So I say I am fine, tired, yada yada yada. I think that part of my healing and learning to deal with where I am at is giving myself permission to feel that pain. Maybe not letting it engulf me if I am in a place that I don't feel safe or I need to be present for my child. But that still leaves me wondering how much do I let into my head space. I know that talking (writing) about it helps. That it gives my thoughts an outlet.
I do know that through this journey that I am learning more about who Jesus is to me. I am learning that prayer is worth it. That in those moments of robbery I can cry out to God and know that he hears me. That he mourns with me. That he gives me comfort. I am pulling my thoughts together and will write about that process.
I don't write this to gain sympathy, judgement, or accolades. I do it simply because I hope that it helps my healing process. Who knows, it may help yours as well.
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