Then grief waits, patiently, for more just like it to come along, and like magnets, they cling to each other, beneath the surface. 

One day, you notice them there, sticking up out of the ground, blazing, like an electric iceberg. And you slip, and touch them, and they suck you under. 

Your brain reasons with you, as you're drowning, that you have so many good things in your life, your life is full and bright and possible. 

You don't have time. You want to skip it. You've perfected the art of minimizing pains, big and small, in your life. But, you know, that if you wait, it will grow larger and deeper and you don't know when you will slip again and be pulled under. 

You don't have time. You want to skip it. You've perfected the art of minimizing pains, big and small, in your life. But, you know, that if you wait, it will grow larger and deeper and you don't know when you will slip again and be pulled under. You think, be strong, suck it up, don't indulge.  Somewhere in the back of your reason and logic, you know the braver thing is to grieve, the braver thing is to be okay with feeling whatever the loss is, the braver thing is to acknowledge that your heart is broken, the braver thing is to admit you are sad, no, devastated. 

Maybe you should just feel it and not hate yourself for doing so. 

http://rarelywrongerin.blogspot.com/2015/03/learning-not-to-skip-it.html?m=1