Or at least that is what my therapist says.
I get wrapped up in how I am supposed to grieve instead of letting it happen. I have had a lot of sadness in my life and I haven’t done a very good job of expressing it in the past. A lot of my sadness would be expressed in anger, the protector of my inner child. Full of rage, I would destroy everything I could get my hands on emotionally. I would let my barbed words fly, intent on inflicting as much pain as I could on the person hurting me.
Not this time. There is no anger; there is just a black pit of despair in my heart that travels to my toes. I am hurting, and I am just hurt. It is soul crushing and my heart is broken. I am dissolving into tears the moment someone shows me a bit of kindness. I don’t hate myself, but I am full of shame about how I am grieving. “I shouldn’t be…..why did I….why am I….it isn’t normal to….”
I was broken up with this Sunday. I don’t have answers that make sense, but I know I can’t hold on and try to convince them to keep trying. I tried to handle it with grace, as everyone hopes they can do when placed in such a heartbreaking situation. “Know your worth” or some other pseudo-therapy bullshit…
I think I did okay. It is hard to hear answers to questions you ask when your world is falling down around your ears, or when none of the answers are working towards a resolution where you both ride off into the sunset.
So here I am with all of this sadness and not anger, which is like a flash of lightning before I am “better” and onto the next thing. This sadness is the expanse of an ocean that swallows me whole every morning I wake up, because my tears start in my dreams. Have you ever cried yourself awake? It is awful.
Where is all of my ocean of grief supposed to go? It shouldn’t go to him, although he was willing to listen. That was just me spewing sadness for days. Showing my sadness to him while he was being kind and considerate made me feel like a fool. “I shouldn’t be texting him this stuff. I just want him back. I am just trying to convince him to change his mind.” Knowing he was suddenly kind and willing to listen gave me hope like a fool that he would change his mind.
I hand my grief to my friends, bucket by tearful bucket…but this is a fucking ocean. Others have suggested exercise, sex with literally anyone, art, alcohol, hard drugs, less hard drugs, video games, walking outside, hanging out with friends, and just waiting for time…everyone had a solution to “get over him.” But I don’t want to get over him…I love him. Grief is love with nowhere to go. Why would I want to get rid of the love I have for someone? And no, love isn’t transferable. At least that isn’t how I experience it. My love for him will always be…for him. I can’t shift it to someone else.
So here is this grief…that I can’t give away, I can’t fuck it away, I can’t give it to him.
I wanted to move from getting angry when I was hurt. And so I have. But what is left is messy grief that has you sobbing to the person who doesn’t want you anymore. And that shit is embarrassing.
I miss anger.