It’s been three weeks. I’m still struggling. I get so irrationally angry so quickly right now. I’m having what should be amazing experiences in my life and my career, that I can’t even celebrate because being happy when I’m still so sad is the most wicked torment I’ve experienced. Things I’ve been working toward for years. Literally YEARS! The moment I realize I’m feeling joy, the guilt crashes over me and everything shifts.
The speed with which I can transition from perfectly fine to violently enraged is dizzying. I’m so sick of random unexpected crying. With the way people are acting in general these days, I’m worried that it will take only one small encounter with one random twatwaffle in Wal-Mart and I’m going to need bail money. And I say this with humor in my heart and absolute terror in my brain. While I laugh and joke, I am truly worried.
I understand that there’s this whole process to grief and that it’s not linear and it’s not expedient. I know nearly everyone experiences it at some point in their lives. But all the logic in the world doesn’t change the fact that I hate this fucking experience. I want to stop feeling this. I want to get on with my life. I want to be happy for reaching the goals I set years ago.
I want to be able to listen to Alter Bridge “When I’m Gone” and not scream at nothingness that “Nobody will save her! We all fucking fail! And when I’m gone, she’ll fucking DIE!” Those guys don’t need that negative, bitchy energy thrown out into the universe at them like that.
I know logically that three weeks is not a reasonable period of time to get through the grieving process, at least to a point where you can go a day without surprise crying. But I want to be done. I don’t want to do this anymore. I’m done. I’ve had enough. I need it to stop before something triggers my remissive depression such that it becomes stable depression and potentially eventually aggressive depression. I want to be able to think of my nieces without bawling over everything they’ve lost. And even though I know logically, reasonably, and realistically this isn’t my fault, I want to stop feeling that I failed. In a critical task. That impacts people I love. I failed. I let them down. And none of this shit is about me – YOU’RE the one who pulled the bullshit! Why do I have to be pissed at myself as well?!?
I would also love to get more than 5 hours of sleep per night. I am so fucking tired.
I know I can’t do anything but experience this bullshit and do everything I can to survive as I work through steps and regressions. I mean – I’ve experienced grief before. I know loss. But I’ve not had this much anger with my loss before. It’s white hot rage. And I feel mean for being so pissed. But I’m so fucking angry I can feel this vibration from my core that wants violence. I can’t do violence. I’ve got shit to do and I’m too old to go to prison.
Tomorrow we celebrate Brooke’s 8th grade graduation. I know I can maintain composure and keep it together for her. I can be strong when she needs support. I can be everything I need to be in the moment it needs to be.
I’m just worried about when I don’t have to be strong for someone else. I fucking hate it.
I’m so pissed at you.
I am infuriated that we have to live this experience. I’m enraged that we all ask why we weren’t enough to motivate you. I am fuming but guilty for wondering why you fucking did this to us right now. We had plans. We had goals. We had hopes and you fucked that up for all of us. You were absolutely fucking selfish with your bullshit and I’m fucking irate that I’m not supposed to be pissed off at you!
And I love you. And I miss you. And I hope that one day soon I can forgive you for leaving us. because right now if I could beat the shit out of ghost you – I’d do it.
Why is Life Like That, Why am I Like That? 