Writing Your Grief Prompt #11

“Loss made everything sharp….I suffer from these brief weekends, the tearing up of the roots of love, and from my own inability to behave better under the stress.” -May Sarton

Loss makes everything sharp, indeed. Words, touch, music, hope, laughter, sadness, dreams, emotions, hugs, silence… It all cuts, tearing at a wound already so deep it will likely never stop bleeding. Everything about me is so raw, as if the heat of the fire of the hell I’m going through has literally blistered my skin. Nerve endings raw. Bleeding emotions freely from the shattered pieces of me. Tears as hot as liquid metal.

Loss makes everything sharp, indeed. My feelings are so battered and bruised. The slightest rough word sends me into waves of agony. The silence of the people who once claimed to love me feels like torture. The friends that “just don’t know how to deal with it”…as if I do. The pleas for company and help unanswered echoing so loudly in my ears that I can hear nothing else. They all leave me gutted. I need a label that says, “fragile. Handle with care”.

I spend my days pulling out the dead and dying flowers in the garden that once was my love and my life. The roots have been cut away, everything is dying. Can you imagine the agony? Pulling my hopes and dreams out by the roots, tossing them away because they are dead. Poisoned by my tears. Hacked to death by suicide. What was once vibrant, fragrant, luscious gardens of love and laughter and hope is now brown, smells of decay and echoes back the sound of my weeping.

I suffer from the unanswered questions, the hindsight, the permanence of it all. I suffer from the kind of loneliness people will likely never even begin to imagine. Only those of us seared by tragedy and ripped apart by loss know the depth of it. It’s an aching in your very soul. A need for comfort from somewhere. An absolute desperation for relief for even a moment from the weight you carry. It’s knowing we can’t soothe ourselves and begging for someone to try.

I suffer from my own ability to behave better under these circumstances. I am needy. I am emotional. I’m often desperate for comfort. I’m filled with rage and remorse. I cry often. My moods shift. I’m often exhausted. I’m confused and flighty more than I’m not. I have very little short term memory. I’m often late to things or don’t show up at all. I’m unapologetic about my grief. I have to be selfish. My life still depends on it. It’s all a lot to carry.

I don’t want to be this way. I want to be happy and normal and able to sleep and not grieving and able to remember things and comfortable alone and I would LOVE to stop being afraid.

I have been diagnosed with Complex PTSD, clinical depression, severe anxiety, trauma induced amnesia, a TBI and complex grief disorder. My husband died. In my house. By his own hand. Unexpectedly. Violently. Permanently. It’s just the most recent and most devastating event in a whole life full of them.

I’m trying my best to be a good friend. Considerate. Calm. Understanding. Supportive. Loving. I know it may not seem like I’m trying but I promise I am. My days can be so hard that just surviving is all I can manage. I love my friends. I want you around. I want to be a friend to you. I’m still a wreck. I need some understanding. There is no guide in how to live this way. There’s no guide on how to grieve or survive trauma or recover from this sort of loss.

I’ve always been a lot to handle. I talk a lot and feel even more and I’m passionate about everything. I am not a lukewarm person. These days, I feel so much that’s hard to carry. I cannot behave better in my current situation. I cannot be something other than what I am in this moment and this moment and this moment.

Everything false has been stripped away. I cannot pretend to anything. I have no pride. I have been humbled. I am raw and open and stripped bare of any pretenses. This is what is left when I survived a nuclear bomb being dropped in the middle of my life.

If you only knew how hard I fought to live. If you only knew how hard I fight every moment to stay. If you only knew that what you’re seeing is only a fraction of the pain in chaos inside of me…maybe you’d be more gentle and understanding. Maybe you would understand that this IS me giving it my everything.

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