Grief is a Funny Thing
Grief is a funny thing. Well grief itself isn’t funny . . . but as a concept I find it a bit odd, especially here in mainstream mid-America. Everyone deals with loss in their life, and not just of people they love – when you move, change jobs, have a baby, deal with a breakup, quit a hobby, or make any big change, you are losing something. If you don’t grieve that loss, it can build up and bite you later. “When we bury feelings, we bury them alive” is one of my favorite quotes that reminds me how important it is to actually allow myself to feel my feelings.
Well I Do
It was a reminder that even some people who “seem to have things under control” when it comes to their mental health have to work at it DAILY. Even when you get into a good healthy rhythm - if you struggle with any mental health issue, it’s still there under the surface, ready to attack any time you slack a little on the self-care.
Goodbye Pops
When we signed up to volunteer to play music for hospice patients, I didn’t realize how lucky we’d be with our first friend and how attached I would get. He died last night and today I am numb. I know the tears are coming. When someone says “hospice” to me, I picture people on their deathbeds who can’t even communicate, but now I know it varies widely.
Three Nights of Solitude
Prior to arrival at Windridge Solitude, I was prepared to have a mental breakdown of some sort. I knew that three nights alone in a cottage with no technology, books, or music was going to be a challenge and I wasn’t quite sure how I was going to handle it. I was a bit surprised and very happy that I didn’t actually have any breakdowns at all and loved every moment of solitude.
Struggles with Body Image
Warning: long monthly grieving post. I’m not crying out for help or fishing for compliments, just sharing part of my journey because I think these topics are important to discuss. I also am very aware that having an issue with body image is something men and women of all ages and sizes can encounter. I know I’m a “healthy” weight and am not trying to take anything away from people who struggle with obesity or thin-shaming.
Wonderings
Sick to my stomach, an unfamiliar tightness in my throat emerges. I’m sure my body is telling me something, reminding me I need to feel. But what feeling manifests as a queasy stomach? Disgust? Grief? Sadness? Anxiety? It could be any of those.
Focus evades me. I know I’m not bored because I’m rarely capable of boredom. I’m just . . . not here. But not really anywhere. No thoughts. Catatonic.
Remembering Buddy
Oh my Buddy, Buddy Gato, “Hey, Buddy Gato” (to the tune of Hey Macarena), my lover Buddy, cuddle Buddy, Bud, Spuds, Spuds Nugget, Bird, Bird Gato, Honey Buddy, Tweety, Tweety Bird, Sweetie Pie, Honey Buddy Boy, Pretty Buddy Boy, Super Buddy.
First Christmas in St. Louis (2015)
In general, I enjoy the holiday season. I went on a group walk last weekend to look at Christmas lights and was the goofy one running ahead and getting giddy over different displays. I'm definitely not a Grinch.
However, this year is the first year that I'm really realizing how hard the holidays can be for people dealing with issues of any kind (grief, loss, illness, broken families, addiction, violence, trauma, other mental health issues, isolation, etc.).
Remembering Little Girl
I miss Little Girl terribly. My favorite kitty was only 9 years old when I lost her this past December, and I know I will never find another companion as loving and affectionate as she was. She adored going outside to be social and never struggled much when I put her harness on. It always made me smile to hear the patter of her tiny paws on the concrete as her pace quickened to greet dogs or people as they approached.