It’s a strange process, this grief. Tricky fucker, too. Lets you think you’re doing fine; maybe you’re even over the hump and can start to feel normal, human again.
Don’t buy it. Believe me, it’s still there, hiding in the shadows, awaiting the perfect opening to pounce and shake the shit out of you, like a cat with a mouse; releasing it just to chase it down again.

Please don’t mistake me; I do not actually see myself in the victim role here, though it can be difficult not to slip into that mindset from time to time. But the raw, open wound that is my emotional state has begun to manifest a bizarre new expression:

It seems I have become extremely vulnerable to strong emotional states of any kind. Even mirth, that full-body laugh that just takes over you when something strikes you as SO hilarious. I can be watching something on television that hits me like that, and laugh uproariously for about five seconds, then the next instant, I’m falling out of my chair in tears. Anger does it, too, and surprise. ANY strong emotional response to ANY stimuli is followed immediately with an overwhelming surge of grief. It’s as if my heart thinks I don’t deserve to feel the joy and the mirth or anything other than the crushing sadness of grief.  So anything else is automatically converted.

I’m unsure how to “deal with” this new aspect of the process, so I’ve decided to fall back on my personal philosophy that Life happens FOR me, rather than TO me, and simply allow it to run its course. This is something my spirit needs to undergo to get to where it needs to go, and fighting it is only going to make it more difficult than it needs to be.
It can get a little embarrassing, though: Last week, during my lunch break at work, I was sitting in the break room (yes, the break room was in use and fairly busy, despite the current social distancing norms) with Jeopardy playing on the television, and something triggered a laugh, which was followed immediately by my choking back a veritable flood of tears and bolting from the room. Fortunately, either no one noticed or they simply decided not to say anything to me, and I’m honestly grateful either way.

But, I’m off work for a few weeks now and am taking that time to study a bit, to create some, and to organize the book that this blog was always destined to become.

And, apparently, to weep more than a little.

C’est la vie.

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