Decompressing

Lately I’ve been saying I’m stuck... but I’m not really stuck. I prefer to think I’m decompressing.

The word Stuck feels judgemental to me. But decompressing feels more like a process. Which is a normal process divers use to re-emerge from the darkness.

Much like the divers, I can’t rush anything or I’ll get sick.

I remember learning about anticipatory grief and I got pretty excited because I thought it meant that the longer I was in anticipatory grief the less grieving I’d have to do once Barry passed.

But damned if that’s not the case.

It turns out that grief has taken up residence in my heart.

And maybe grief doesn’t have to be this big bad monster. Maybe it can be gentle, kind and helpful.

Either way, whether I accept it or not, it’s here. To stay.

I actually like the idea of thinking of grief as a woman.

After all, we’re going to be roommates now.

So buckle up buttercup.

I can’t outwit her.
I can’t outscheme her.
And I definitely can’t outrun her.

She’s even gone so far as to decorate a corner of my heart. It’s blue.

Am I happy about my new roomie? Not really. I’d prefer if she just moved out. I don’t really like her but…

Do I think that her feminine energy will give me some comfort? She hasn’t yet but I can always live in hope.