I love it! Do things differently. That's a joke. There is no timeline in grief. Screw time. Just like it's screwed me.
Lately I have run into two people who have felt that I should be doing things differently in my grief. People that have judged where I am at in my grief and felt that I owe them or others something. I mean after all it has already been one year, one week, and six days...
Is there a disclaimer in grief that says after the one year marker you should do things a certain way?
I don't think so. That's a crock of shit if you ask me. My world has been turned upside down more than most would ever know and you are trying to tell me how I should go about living my life?
NO!
I'm not depressed.
I have, and do, give myself many smiles and much "happiness".
Are they different smiles and laugh's than they used to be before I buried my son?
Your damn right they are. They will always be different. My life has been changed.
I know my grief.
After all, it's been one year, one week, and six days. I know this thing called grief that follows me forever without rest. I know it's movements. I know it's manipulations.
I don't fear my grief. So don't make me shelf it for your pleasure.
I know when to be gentle with myself and I know when to push myself through the grief that I battle daily.
It's not going anywhere. Grief that is.
It's here for good. It's not a bad thing. As long as you get to know it. My son is dead for God's sake. You want me to curb grief? Not going to happen. It will creep in when I allow it. It doesn't abide by your rules.
Respect me. Respect my family. Respect my grief...my forever grief.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
How do you tell a friend...
...even though it's been one year, one week, and six days you are still hurting.
The hurt is not lighter. Not easier.
Just different.
I'm hurt because I have some friends who won't talk to me because of their own fear...
I'm hurt because some see me as the same person I used to be.
I'm hurt because some deserted me.
I'm hurt because some have forgotten.
I'm hurt because some won't say his name to my face.
I'm hurt because some won't even read my blog for fear of stirring up uncomfortable feelings.
I'm just hurt.
It's not about your closure. It's not about you. For once I had to be selfish and deal with my loss. Not the loss of your friend. I am still Stefanie.
Like me, for the Stefanie who has given birth to death
or
Hate me, for the Stefanie who is selfish in her own grief.
I have learned to put all these feelings of hurt and loneliness on the shelf. I have learned to rid my life of senseless negativity because I have other things to focus on. Others things that are not even known by most readers and friends.
To stir up those shelved emotions is big. When a grieving mother is asked to discuss feelings, it's different. It's no longer a casual conversation. It's an invitation into a battlefield. Your asking me to enter a place I felt I have conquered.
Please don't make me go there for your own self righteousness.
I'm exhausted.
I'm hurt.
You left me. Your were my friend. Where were you to hold my hand in the darkness?
After all it's been one year, one week, and six days...
Allow me to introduce myself.
I'm Stefanie. I am married to the love of my life. I have three children; one is my sunshine in my darkest days, one soars high in the sky with his wings spread wide and a gleaming halo, and the other fills my life with hope. My life has been changed by experience. I walk a journey through grief. I'm learning everyday to live my life all over again. Please be gentle....
...even though it's been one year, one week, and six days.