i

have been resting and taking breaks and asking questions and attempting to unravel everything within me so that i can hopefully put it all back together into some kind of version of me that is so positive and uplifting that she can remember that with enough positive and goodness, good will always win. and while i’m dismantling myself i’m hoping i can become even better friends with grief and ironically in all of it, i think becoming friends with grief might be the thing that will help me navigate it all. i never wanted to be friends with grief. i honestly can say i never ever wanted her in my life. to be fair, i don’t think anyone wants her in their life. i was terrified of her and when she finally came to me, i hated her in this way that makes your blood boil and makes you constantly ask why me? she came to me when i lost penguin, my thirteen year old chihuahua and i successfully kicked grief right out. she stood around for two months and then i packed her away so tight, sealed shut, clapped my hands in the way one does when they complete something and have that satisfied feeling of “well that’s done.” or so i thought. because now i’m sure she was just napping, waiting for an opening like this. an opening so big i can’t ignore her. and that’s exactly what she did this time. she never left. she stayed and i wanted nothing more than to shut the door in her face again. scream at her to go the fuck away. i wanted to ask her how she does this to people day in and day out? does she enjoy making people miserable? and it felt like she would just stand there, blinking, waiting for me to let her in. it’s as if she was saying “this one’s too big. i can’t just ‘go’ “ putting quotation marks on the word go because she truly never left and now she knows i know. so i began by resting. i realized i needed so much rest to face her. she wasn’t leaving and she was exhausting. and so i rested. i asked questions in attempts to verify her identity. and the moment i let her in was the moment it all became real. i was feeling this and she was here because this thing had in fact happened. my dad had in fact died and was no longer here in the way i had always known him. and the moment i let grief in, she walked in and sat next to me opposed to the constant banging and loud reminders she would etch into my brain to make herself known. she acted as if she had never been rude once, as if to tell me “you see, this is nice. me and you sitting here.” and now she’s with me everywhere i go. she’s not as loud as she was. she used to be so loud. she’s still just as sneaky but she’s comforting in a way. she’ll slip a memory in but i think she means well. and it’s nice to know she’s there. it’s not her fault she changed my whole life. and so now i sit here defending grief in this way that one would after living with her for eight months. and it all has just emphasized this big fact that i have no control over a lot in this life but i do have the control to find that thought depressing and terrifying or i can find it to be okay. and what i have noticed is when i find it to be okay i am a much better person. so here’s to a better me.

l, js