The past couple weeks have been rough. On the bright side, almost all the major pieces of the “job plan” have come together, and it looks like I’ll be (finally!) leaving my parents’ house in the next couple months for a new life in another city. On the murkier side, the part of the divorce process that involves communication with Mark is now over, and all that’s left to do is get to New York and file the papers. Meanwhile, our wedding anniversary popped up right in the middle of this ending-communication process, and my anniversary grief was even greater than last year’s. I had a few days where I cried on and off, and then the night before the dreaded day, I broke down and sobbed from the pit of my soul for what seemed like hours. With the sobbing came a deep, resigned recognition that I’m done with this relationship, even though a part of me wishes so badly that I didn’t have to be. What I’ve known for a while now just sort of sunk in on another level. The anniversary day itself, however, wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be—I felt hollowed out from the previous night’s crying in a strangely peaceful way.
But it’s not necessarily the grieving itself that’s made this period so difficult. It’s the push-pull of “move forward” and “stop to feel the feelings.” In this past year of relative quiet and moderate activity, I’ve been able to give my grief the time and attention it deserves. However, with so many exciting pieces of my new life becoming a reality and having a lot more to keep me busy than I’ve been used to for a while, there are times when it still feels almost unnatural to not be grieving as much, even though I’m aware that my increased desire to move forward signals that I’m ready to let go of some of the grief. Or, I get used to the joyful, energetic, even-keeled feelings for a long time (much longer than these feelings have lasted in more than a year), only to be confused and thrown off balance when I’m rocked by another grief quake. I’m having to experiment a lot more to find new combinations of self care in order to be authentic in both this more potent, forward-propelling energy and in the stop-and-get-quiet grief that’s still there. But right now, it still feels really awkward.
4 comments:
I totally hear you. But first, I just want to say congratulations on coming up with a life plan for yourself. That's some fabulous self-care in a way, too.
I love the pic you used for this post, because I feel that way about half the time right now. I know exactly what you mean-- I'm in a similar stage, and it's so confusing to feel the excitement, yet of course, still have the grief pop up.
Still, I can't help but think what progress this is-- that you are in this new stage that isn't full-on grief, most of the time. It won't be long now-- and you'll be mostly happy, with hardly a grief quake in sight. I'm so happy for you.
It's the ups and downs of letting go. I still get waylaid by things but know that they will pass on through to better times.
Grief quake. Wow. That's such a strong way of putting a wave of grief that's from the core. It sounds like a challenging but important time. c
Bernadine and Syd--Thank you both for sharing your similar experiences. It's hard sometimes in the middle of these strong, rollercoaster grief emotions to not feel totally crazy. As much as I wish neither of you had to deal with the same really difficult stuff, it's good to know that other people have been or are there, too. It feels a little less disorienting and lonely.
C--Thanks for reminding me that this is *important.* It's sometimes difficult to remember that these emotions serve a purpose and that stopping to feel them, as counterintuitive as it can seem, also serve a purpose in propelling me forward.
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