I was high when I wrote this, so forgive me if I go astray.

Grief is a natural part of our lives. From the smallest, like losing a beloved Teddy Bear, to the biggest, like losing a loved one. It is everywhere we look, even when we’re not actively trying.

When my father passed away 30 years ago, I went batshit crazy. I stopped talking for awhile. (So did my brother.) I watched my mother and younger sibling like a hawk, worried that they would also die on me unexpectedly. I gave my many therapists a run for their money, because I was a bitchy brat.

“I heard you like to write poems and short stories?”

I shrugged, like most teenagers with a chip on their shoulder do.

“Would you write me one?”

I humored her, made it the most morbid thing that I could think of. The look on the ladies face was priceless. (If only we had had smartphones back then.)

I grieved when I left my abusive ex because a part of me had failed at having that whole happy family thing. I moved on eventually, it didn’t take that long. Being without him was better than being with him.

I am grieving now. Now this one, this one is completely different, because I am grieving for myself.

I lay on the couch last evening, beyond exhausted. I couldn’t carry a conversation with anyone. I could barely keep my eyes open. I lay there with them closed, feeling every pulse and ping in my body. The slow absorption of my pain meds dulled the sensations and I started sighing to expel the buildup. (If you have chronic pain, you’ll understand this.)

At 6PM, I decided to give up and went to bed.

I grieve for the life that I once had. The energy to go to the store, or multiple stores at one time. The ability to cook more than just the simplest of things. Making plans for an outing that I won’t be able to attend.

When I do go out, my eyes are darting around, trying to capture the change of scenery in my mind for future reference, when I can’t stand the same four walls.

I grieve because I can’t use my body and mind to make a living for myself.

I grieve because my husband and I got married in 2009. We bought the condo. Then in 2011, I started becoming ill. We almost lost everything. He didn’t expect to become my caregiver. The future was wide open, both young, with my dream of going to culinary school. Now, that is all part of the past.

There’s an emptiness inside her
And she’d do anything to fill it in
And though it’s red blood bleeding from her now
It’s more like cold blue ice in her heart
She feels like kicking out all the windows
And setting fire to this life
She could change everything about her using colors bold and bright
But all the colors mix together – to grey
And it breaks her heart
It breaks her heart
To grey

Grey Street by Dave Mathews Band

To grieve is part of being human. I am in that process right now. Perhaps so are you.

It won’t be the last time.

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