I have three notes on my phone that are ongoing blog posts that I am slowly but surely working on. None of them seem relevant. None of them really explain how I feel, although now that I think about it I’m not sure anything would really explain how I feel. I don’t even know if I can explain how I feel.
I go to therapy every Tuesday, which means Tuesdays are almost always my worst days. There’s a good chance I may have mentioned this before but my favorite coping mechanism is to just constantly ignore feelings and pretend I am 100% doing great when I’m really not. Tuesdays are now the days that I know I am going to have to face things. This week was when I finally admitted that I am angry (which is tied with Guilt for the top spot on my list of Least Favorite Stages of Grief).
I am angry. This is the angriest I’ve ever been. I feel like the grumpy old person who doesn’t want to see anyone having fun, the only difference is I don’t want to see myself having fun. Anger is my newest enemy and it loves to partner up with its BFF Guilt to come and ruin anything in my life that has a chance to offer me a temporary break from grief. And I need a damn break. Anyone who has ever experienced grief knows what I mean.
The worst part about this anger is that I am angry at the person who isn’t here. I am mad at Taylor. I am mad that I am left trying to figure out my new normal. I’m mad that I am left here to figure out finances and money and how I am supposed to navigate life without my partner. I’m so, so angry that I can’t sleep or start my day or drive down the road without having flashbacks of the night I found him. This is the absolute worst. I didn’t ask for this. No one would ask for this. But here I am, somehow making it through this nightmare I am dealing with now. The only thing that really helps are the times I find myself hanging out with people and temporarily forgetting about the bullshit I inevitably will go back to (and I truly cherish those moments, btw, if you are reading this and have spent any time with me where I can actually just be Happy Alaina). What makes me the most angry is that I am stuck here picking up the pieces of our life and he isn’t. And he is the only person I know who would know what to do, or at least know how to make me feel better, and he isn’t here. I am mad that I am left here to worry about it all and he isn’t. The worst part of acknowledging this anger? It is quickly followed by guilt. Because I am the one still here and it doesn’t seem fair to be angry at someone who isn’t.
I’ve said it before, and I’m sure I will say it again, but I’ll be okay. I just need to be angry.
One thought on “pick apart the pieces you left”
I’m sorry for your loss. I see that pain in my Mom every day. You see Dad has dementia and we are losing more of him daily. I’ve made my peace with it, but after 50 years, it’s tough to let a connection like that go. I hope things improve for you. I can’t imagine what you are going through. If anger works, you keep at it. Whatever you have to do to get through this. Thanks for sharing. ~Dave
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