The Raw Reality Of Grieving “Right”

I have “moved on.”  Every.  Single.  Day.   My husband has transported on I think. I say that because I don’t think he ever allowed himself to go through the stages of grief to get to a place where he can be ok in this new life. For a long time I felt like he ran away from life. He didn’t. He didn’t even run away from me. He just transported himself to a place where he has let himself forget that I exist. I’m nowhere on his radar. I’m the mother to his boys but I mean nothing. He went back to a life that made sense to him, one that didn’t include me or our boys.

I’m different now.

My coping skills have gotten better, in so much as, I am still here, I’m still breathing, I’m still standing.

My dealing with people skills needs some work.  Mainly I want to throat punch people.  All the time.  For their stupid comments, their lack of compassion and their judgement.

I’m easily annoyed. I’ve never been the most patient person and letting things roll off my back was never how I would have described myself before. Now I tend to get hung up on too much on minutia and that annoys me too.

I am amazed, still, always, at the amount of judgment I see cast on people that are hurting. In whatever capacity, when someone is down, there are a million opinions of why that person shouldn’t be. Or should be up by now because, “My gosh, its been like, months now already and you’re still sad?” Or shouldn’t have gotten down to begin with because, “Hey, at least you didn’t get to know them, right? Isn’t that a blessing?”   I wonder if people’s rear ends get as tired riding around on their high horses casting judgment as we get tired of hearing their stupid advice on how they would handled loss.

Grief changes people. I have the t-shirt; trust that I know what I’m talking about here.   It’s made me more empathetic, more emotional, more concerned, more aware. Those aren’t all good things when I was already quite neurotic to begin with.