I had therapy session today. I think my therapist is worried about me again! She feels like I’m moving too fast--forgetting it’s a marathon and not a sprint. Slowing down isn’t an option, it’s too hard and painful, so I just keep moving; forging ahead at full speed, wanting to get to whatever destination I’m supposed to arrive at. It’s like racing towards the future so I know what it holds; kinda like I’m 20-something again. I’m sure, over time, I will figure the right balance between forging forward and slowing down to let the emotions in. It’s like your dad said, “You have to feel the pain to get through it.” Sometimes, I wonder, how much deeper can the pain and grief go? But, I guess I will only know when I hit rock bottom. Most of the time, I feel like this must be it; rock bottom, but only to realize, I’m not even close. I keep forgetting that I’ve barely scratched the surface. I don’t know if I’m forging forward so fast so I don’t feel the pain or if this is the only speed I know. After you passed, I didn’t think I could even breathe again, let alone function. Now that I’m functioning, I wonder if I’m actually living or am I just moving to keep moving? I guess that’s something I have to figure out over time.
For me, the hardest part is not feeling connected to anyone anymore. Nobody to talk to when I come home. Nobody to share my stories with. Nobody to laugh and hang out with. Nobody to make fun of me. Nobody to wipe away my tears. Nobody to hold my hand or kiss me goodnight. Nobody to say “I love you” to. But, I can’t even think about these things, because if I do, then it might just be real that you’re never coming home, and that would be too much for my heart to bear. So, I do what I know how to do, move forward until one day the pain and sadness that once resided in my heart is no longer there (at least that is the plan). 🤞🏽🤞🏽
A grieving widow who is trying to find meaning and purpose from her tragic event.