My problem with grief is its general shape. Grief is somehow both slippery and sharp, rolling over you with sadness then sneakily attacking your soft underbelly with its claws.
This is about what we as individuals can tolerate comfortably before we’re pushed into emotional discomfort. We try to live in this comfort zone, but that’s impossible, because we’re human beings and rarely fit in any sort of box until we’re dead and literally lying in one.
“But those walls don’t just break down when you stop needing them, and suddenly what was keeping you safe is now hindering personal development. It blows. It’s a whole process of demolition and rebuilding and relearning what all these feelings are, and it is awful and glorious in equal turns.”
“I mean, not to brag, but I’ve probably cried more tears in the past year than some people manage to eke out in their entire lives.”
Why are you crying again? How are you supposed to handle this? What are feelings and why do you keep having them? Let’s find out!
“Didn’t you know you had that much power? You can move mountains. You can do anything.”
“For the first time in my life, a teacher calls me out on sleeping in class when I’ve been awake the whole time. I’m surprised it hasn’t happened earlier, because kids have made fun of my eyes since preschool.”
Just because it’s summer doesn’t mean your neverending avalanche of feelings has abated.
Won’t you join me in clinging to the past while yearning for the future?
Okay, so you have a pen and paper and some feelings. Now what?