So it’s coming to me in tiny pieces. This grief journey. It’s confusing as hell. One minute I think I’ve got it. And suddenly. It’s gone. Starting over. Stuck. The beginning was easy. I knew what I had to do. Be strong. Act strong. Good choice. If I act it, I’ll be it. And it worked. Got me through the worst of days. I did believe. I still do. But it’s changed. My thoughts are spot on. I say the “right” things. But my head and heart just aren’t in synch. “Everything happens for a reason.” “I was blessed to have almost 40 beautiful years.” “We were blessed to all be together.” “Gregger would have wanted it this way.” Yada, yada, yada. But you say those words over again and again, and soon they lose meaning. Purpose. Did I believe them anymore? What was the reason? A year and a half later, I still don’t know.
But I’m getting there. Fear. “Mama angel” asked me, “What are you afraid of?” I didn’t have an answer. Nothing. Don’t know. Everything. But then I realized. I’m scared as hell. Fear is holding me back. From EVERYTHING. Fear of being happy. Again. Fear of putting my toes in the water. Fear of stepping outside my comfort zone. Fear of walking on my street. Fear of seeing “that dog.” “Those people.” Fear of the unknown. Fear of losing. Fear of letting go. Fear of being hurt. So staying stuck is safe. No risk, no worry.
As I write, I realize another fear. Fear of exposure. Will I publish this? Everyone will know. I will expose myself as weak. But this is the first part of the journey. Getting out. Moving on. Getting over. Escaping the fear of what others think. I read that fear shows up when you’re “growing or going where you dream of.” I don’t know what I dream of, but I know I’m growing. Learning. Every day. So fear has wrapped its arms around me. I just need to break free. Maybe one finger at a time. But I’ll do it. I need to stop running. Or start. Just running in the right direction.
To be continued…