The other day, I had the awesome pleasure of talking to my mom on my drive home from work. We talked about all sorts of things, but one thing really stuck out to me. I feel that it's important enough that I go ahead and process through some of it here, where processing feelings seems to have fallen by the wayside.
She and I were talking about grief. About how difficult it still is for her to make it through periods of time since Michelle died. Sometimes, the sadness envelopes her and removes her ability to sleep, or eat, or want to just do normal things. She talked about how sometimes the sadness just swims in her head and she finds it difficult to stop thinking all sorts of things.
I was reminded of myself when she was talking. I remembered when I started this blog how I'd write and write about my sadness. I would type and think and process and cry and just get out a bunch of feelings. I told her about how writing, here, really helped me with getting out some of my feelings and moving through my grief. I told her that even though sometimes it was so hard to write, I would force myself to. I told her that those times would get out some of the truest, heart soothing thoughts. The hardest posts to write were the most healing by far.
It's been a really long time since I've just sat here and vented out feelings. When I was talking to her, I really felt whole and settled in my heart. Healed.
There are certainly lots of moments in my days that don't feel like that at all. Lots of days in my weeks that barely resemble the way I felt that night on the phone with my mom. I go through these days thinking that I've got things together, but then sometimes, out of nowhere, something is said and it hits me just right (or wrong), on a day where there's very little of me left and I realize that I'm probably not as healed up and healthy as I'd like to be.
When I spend the better part of the evening crying because I can't sort out where the anger really stems from, I'm pretty sure that I should write. Because there I'll be, sitting there, swimming in a mess of thoughts, and what do I do? Avoid. Disconnect. Grow more angry at myself for all of the things that ... Sleep.
I need to write. That's what I need to do.