I went to the beach. It was nice, sunny, not extremely crowded. I even went in the water. Not fully submerged but up to my shoulders. I love the beach and it is a sacred space for me, but as soon as I got home and laid on my bed alone, it hit.
So I called anyone and everyone who would answer. Cassie, college mentors, high school friends, Cassie again. Between Zoom, FaceTime, and phone calls I was consistently talking to someone for at least 4 hours. But each time they hung up or the Zoom call ended, it hit.
Then at night I went to church. I sat through the message, made it through worship without completely collapsing, and managed to put a smile on my face when I met the new guy from someone’s connect group. We went out to eat afterwards- waited in line for an hour. Spent maybe two hours at the restaurant and finally made my way home around midnight. But after all those hours of forcing a smile, it hit even harder.
I went to bed. A new day would be better right? But at around 6 AM I woke up because somehow even in the midst of my sleep, it hit.
And so here I am. In the midst of constant pain coming after me. Hoping that maybe, just maybe, if I write it all out it won’t hurt the next time it hits.
So far, my head hurts- possibly from the lack of eating. My eyes are red and puffy from rubbing them so much. My nose is snotty. And no matter how many times I try to sleep and dream it all away, I wake up in a panic.
And I don’t know how I got here.
How the only thing I can do is sit and stare at nothing. How I can’t muster up the strength to eat a full meal. How even doing the things I love- like going to the beach or going on a walk- leave me feeling just as empty as I was before I did them.
I keep trying to put myself in other people’s shoes. Telling myself that if Vanessa Bryant can handle the death of her husband and her daughter at the same time, then I can handle this. That if Tanya Burr can handle divorce, then I can handle this. That there are people in this world going through far worse than I am, so I can handle this.
But my therapist once told me that I need to process my hurt instead of trying to find the immediate solution for it.
And I absolutely hate it.
Why would anyone want to just sit here and feel this deeply painful feeling. Why aren’t the distractions working. Why am I doing everything that makes sense for me to clear my mind, yet it’s still all one meddled mess. Why can’t I control the floodgates of emotions that wash over me at any given moment.
I have no solution to this.
And I will walk through today with a smile on my face. I will be the sunshine and rainbows that everyone knows me to be. But deep down, right now I am just one big mess. I am a ticking time bomb waiting to explode with tears flooding down my eyes.
But Cassie said that’s ok. She said it’s ok that the only thing I know how to do right now is cry. She said it’s ok to grieve. She said just take it one moment at a time. And I guess that’s how I’ll do it.
The past 24 hours have not been easy, but maybe the next 24 will.