It has been a really tough three weeks. I can’t stop thinking of Joe and I am back to the realization that this is permanent. I have been having anxiety attacks again but, this time, they are lasting longer. I am having some trouble concentrating but not like before. I can still do my work but am having issues doing things that I enjoy. My friend, who has been reading my blogs a lot since I told her about it, asked me when I was planning to post something again.
Well, here I go. Hopefully this will be some good therapy.
First off, this is not the first time this has happened. This happened about a month after Joe died. But it was short lived. This has been happening since Joe’s birthday. What is very hard in that realization that he is never coming back. I will never see him, touch him, hear him again. And I have been miserable. I have also been acting miserable. I have been fighting with Josie and her kids. I stopped calling my kids and parents. I did not want to run. Things were bad.
This is where the title of the post comes into play. As I have said in previous posts, I am reading a book called, “It’s OK That You’re Not OK.”. Basically, I am learning that my pain is unique and ongoing. It is something that is always going to be there and I will never lose it and things will not get better. There is no gold at the end of the rainbow, I will probably not learn the meaning of life and I will not become a better person. I needed to deal with my pain and tend to it. Only then can I move forward (by the way, this completely negates my post from a month ago. There are no stages of death).
I tried to reach out to people, including Josie. But I was always pushed away. Whether it was because they did not have time to deal with it or they just did not want to deal with it. When Josie pushed it off, I thought it might be something else. It might be she did not know how to deal with it. It might be that she, and everyone else, did not know and was uncomfortable dealing with this.
Now, I know what you are thinking. “He’s feeling sorry for himself and thinks no one understands!” Well, yes and no. I am feeling sorry for myself and I thought I needed someone to snap me out of it. I told four people about my issue. No one had anything to say or wanted to even talk about it. This is not bad. In fact, I think this is normal. It is a lot of pressure to have to deal with this. One might think that they must figure out some sort of biblical sayings that will heal me. Well, most of us just are not that prophetic. Including me.
See, this is a very personal thing. Grief is going to be different for everybody. Even if I meet someone who is going through the exact same thing, I can do nothing more than listen and comfort. It is wrong for me to expect help from people when I know I would not be able to help anyone else in the same position. That goes for my father, children and all around me. We all are feeling different. How one reacts and feels may (an probably is) different from what I feel. None of it is right or wrong.
So how do we deal with the pain inside? Well, we realize it is not going anywhere. Probably never going away. This is not an illness. Here is the secret that even a lot of counselors get it wrong (a psychiatrist told me this): This isn’t an illness. There is not medicine out there that is make us “better”. It is closer to losing a limb than having a cold. With that in mind, actually tending to the feeling and anxiety is the best way to handle it. Does that mean I am truly alone? Not at all but I must know what I am feeling and acknowledge it. Likewise, I must acknowledge the feelings of others and understand what they are going through. I need to stop looking at someone who is not helping as someone who does not care. I need to look at that person as someone who is lost and does not know how to help. What’s worse is that they may feel like they will make things worse for me (and that can be true). I need to stop expecting help from people and just deal with a bulk of the work on my own, bringing those around me in when I need to talk things out. Yep, that’s it.
You know, I do feel a lot better right now.
I still really miss him.
Foloow me on Twitter @RunninFewl