One thing I’m learning about this entire grieving process is that it’s turning me into someone I really don’t like, someone who is angry and hateful and impatient (ok, well I’ve always been impatient, but never so much with other people).
I don’t want to wish that my best friend would talk about anything but her crazy pregnancy dreams or her baby shower. I don’t want to skip my bedtime prayers because I feel like there isn’t possibly anything I could say to God right now. I don’t want to be Kermit-the-frog-Green with envy when my other best friend finds out she’s having a boy, just what we had all hoped for.
Even more than feeling this way about every possible pregnancy and baby-related thing right now, I’m finding myself more and more angry at the rest of the world, too—for the most absurd of reasons. Things that should be fun—planning bachelorette parties and showers and double-date nights with friends—feel more like a chore than anything else. I don’t feel sorry for someone who complains on Facebook that their biggest problem is an impending cold. The idea of a weekend getaway doesn’t even sound appealing. And today, I spent 2 entire minutes thinking about how much I hated some random woman’s shoes before I realized I was honestly wasting time on such useless, negative energy.
This makes me sound like a troll. Like a bitch. And I feel like I am. But let me tell you.
I do not want to be this person.
I want to be jumping for joy for my friends during this incredibly exciting time in their lives. I want to be excited about fun things coming up in the months ahead. Hell, I want to go on Facebook without fear that someone’s post might cause a breakdown. I want to be happy.
But I feel anything but. I do find myself in moments of contentment—laughing at something with Sean, listening to a song I like on the radio—and it feels nice to feel normal again. But then I remember. I remember that somewhere deep inside, I still feel screwed over, deprived, defeated.
So - to the world and everything or everyone that finds themselves in my path of hatred - I just want to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I hate you right now, because I seem to hate everything right now. I hope you know I don’t mean it, that I don’t really hate you, and that whatever this is, it’s coming from a place of such pain and sorrow that it’s not really a reflection of truth. It’s masked by something far greater than anything I can control right now.
I know that this will change. That’s the beauty of time—with it comes healing, even when you don’t realize it. The journey feels so long and slow, but one day it hits you that you’ve come so far. Good things will happen again, and even bad ones too, but you survive. There’s a song that I that I think captures this idea perfectly.
Fight hard on a night like this
Look for a star and wish you could get out of it
Bite down and then pray, pray, pray
You’ll make it through this to sing and say
You hold life dear
Moments turn to hours which become years
And now I’m…
Far from here, and we are happy
Far from here, we are all right
Far from here, things are peaceful
Far from here, we have insight
Far from here, we’ve detangled
Our strangled hold
And I hope to see you there (Far From Here, Alissa Moreno)
These moments might feel unbearable sometimes, but over time you learn to live again. Sure, it doesn't go away. But it becomes a part of you, instead of all of you.
I know that someday, far from here, we’ll be happy. And that hope, that faith, is what keeps me going.