I was talking to a friend of mine on the phone the other day and she said something that rang very true.
“You sound like you’re over it!”
Not in the “over it”, as in healed kind of way. In the “over it” as in sick and bloody tired of grieving.
She couldn’t have been more right. I am over it. I’m over hurting, I’m over crying, I’m over the cycles. I do just want it to be done which is completely unrealistic and unless I have a lobotomy, I’m not going to just forget what I’ve lost. I hated that I couldn’t just draw a line in the sand and say to myself, “Mazy, you’re done. Move on” and then actually forget all about it and get on with it.
This feeling has made me reflect on all the other massive hurdles I’ve had in this lifetime.
My way of dealing with those is walls up, I’ve explained before.
I just put my defence mode on and forge forwards. I found if defence mode is up long enough, I can actually forget that there was ever a hurdle in the first place.
I couldn’t do that this time. The wound was too deep. The hurdle meant too much. The love was too fierce.
Frankly, I have been very conscious of not doing that this time. I needed to deal with this properly. I needed to process and work through it and make sure I’d covered every base.
I exposed myself to triggers, I talked about it constantly, I thought about it endlessly.
I cried and laid in bed in a ball and allowed complete dysfunction when I needed it. I talked to professionals, I talked to other widows, I meditated, I researched and read all about grief. All this in an effort to move through it properly and let’s be honest, sometimes just because some of those things were all I was capable of.
She was right, I am well and truly over it. I just can’t be stuffed being sad anymore. The intense energy it takes to grieve is bullshit and I don’t want to do it anymore.
If only it were that easy, huh?
It is getting easier though. Honestly.
When overseas, I spoke to a Kinesiologist (who is fantastic and if you’re ever in Bali and need a quick tune up, write me and I’ll give you her details) who asked me something really simple.
“When he was with us, did you talk about him and think about him constantly? Like, when you were at work? Or when you were out with friends? Or when you were going about your every day life during the day?”
The answer is no. Of course I thought about him. I loved him. I spoke to him a few times a day too. But my every waking moment wasn’t completely consumed by him. And yet for the past year, it has been.
So, we came up with a plan. That I would give myself moments to think about him and the impact of losing him but I wouldn’t let it consume me.
When I’d mastered that, then I would allow myself those moments only in times where nothing else needs to be done or thought about. Like at night, when the kids have gone to bed.
This compartmentalising has helped. He doesn’t consume my every thought. He didn’t when he was alive, why let it happen now?
Feels good to hear just me again. It feels good to see forwards. It feels really really good to know that it might be the end of us, but it isn’t the end of me.