It's Me

I've come to this blog numerous times to write something 'normal', and I just can't. It seems fraudulent for me to put down words that don't actually mirror where I am right now. Truthfully, I've been in a dark place and I'm itching to get out of it.  I also know, though, that letting myself really feel the bad stuff is part of the long, long grieving process.

I was sitting in a library lesson with my kiddos today and as the librarian was leading the lesson, I found myself sitting there with tears streaming down my face. I quickly had an 'oh crap, get it together, you can't be doing this right now' moment. Later that afternoon a coworker noticed that I was not myself and asked what was wrong. When I told her that I was just missing my dad so, so much, she said 'I can imagine....you've been putting on such a happy face here though that we wouldn't know.' It's true...and unsettling. 

I wonder what it would look like if I wore my emotions on my sleeve. Actually, I have an inkling of what it would look like, and it's sad and dreary. That being said, I feel like I can't actually let it go and feel the bad stuff when I need to. This typically leads to going on auto-pilot for the work week and experiencing a major crash landing on the weekend. And while this is probably not healthy (and so incredibly exhausting), it has become such a learned behavior that I'm not really sure what other options there are. 

I don't want this blog to become a space where I only write about grief, but I also don't want to pretend to be who I am not. Right now I'm a person who is: angry, sad, sensitive, conflicted, and hopeful. It's certainly not who I normally am or who I want to be for the rest of my life, but it's undoubtedly who I am at this moment (even just writing that feels like a load of sand has been lifted off of my chest). I think I'm learning that the only way to get to the other side of this is by going through it, rather than trying to go around it all. 

And so, maybe some posts on here will be depressing, maybe they'll be uplifting, maybe they'll be out of left field - but they'll be who I am, what I am, and where I am. 

PS. I had such a fun memory of my dad the other day. I was walking out to my car after school one day last year and noticed something on my windshield. I quickly went into the 'is it a ticket?!' panic before I came to realize that it was a bar of chocolate left by my dad with a note that said 'I love you'. I love you too, daddio.