So, I haven’t been feeling my best lately. I’m grumpy. Pushing people away. Isolating myself from things and people I love. I have my reasons, but I’ve just felt emotionally silent. Like I have nothing left to feel.
Like I don’t know how I feel, maybe?
Numb. Going through the motions.
Nothing happened. No big anniversary. No event that reminds me of anyone I’ve lost. But here I find myself sobbing in the dark at 12:30 in the morning.
Grief takes so many forms. It can be this all encompassing weight that pushes down on you with the pressure of a thousand elephants or it can be this soft whisper of despair that makes you feel like a grayscale version of yourself.
This grief does terrible things to your heart. It makes you treat those you love like they are burdens. It makes you feel like maybe you are burden. No, you definitely are the burden. It makes you gather up all those doubts and whispers, ball them up and stuff them deep inside of your soul so that you don’t bother anyone else with your pain.
And it comes out of nowhere.
And this is not new. This is not novel. I’m not the only one.
I don’t even know what I’m crying about.
I can’t even tell you what would make it better.
I don’t know how today is different from yesterday or last week or last month.
I just know I hurt.
And I don’t say this to get your pity. I say this because I know there are other midnight sobbers out there too. Or mid-afternoon sobbers. Or shower sobbers. Or all of the above sobbers.
So tonight I’m clinging to the hope that tomorrow I can feel less dim. That tomorrow I can cuddle my children, feel hope and joy. That tomorrow I can feel loved. Or loveable.
Actually today since it’s after midnight. I’m clinging to the hope that TODAY can be different. That I can be different.
Curdled Like Cheese 