I am grieving. I am in the process of processing the emotional and physiological aspects of my miscarriage and the subsequent car accident that followed.
I am doing well as I gage these things.
As an unmedicated major depressive with PTSD I have years worth of experience with my mind/body brokenness and learned tools to handle my emotional and physical pains.
I wish I was a medicated major depressive with PTSD in that it's less time consuming to start a grieving process when you don't have to constantly put every thought under an electron microscope to see is this old stuff or current pain.
But right now I have to do without medications. And I feel like a rock star in the fact that I have handled my loss so very well. Only one really bad day(thus far). That's a miracle in of itself.
I've found healthy outlets to speak about my pain. I have not become closed down emotionally. Nor have l been scattered and obsessive (accept for chocolate. I've been obsessed with it and I am allowing it for the moment.). And those are all major life wins!
I've been blessed with support and love. I've been labeled as brave for being honest about this process. I feel odd about that because I feel anything but brave. I feel like a fleshy, half inflated balloon filled with shattered glass. Not very heroic.
I see all this good work and healthy handling of my pain. But I still feel like shit.
I am concurrently today filled with euphoric sense of gratitude and and burgeoning overwhelming sense of rage.
In a desperate need to feel that I am in control I revisited the five states of grief.
Yes I am 100% guilty of wanting a neat and clear path to 'normal'. And I really know better. This isn't my first rodeo. I know my mind and my limits and yet, and yet I realized that I wanted to just be done. How foolish. How disrespectful to myself!
I am really angry right now. My religious beliefs do not give comfort during this time because my practices are based not on orthodoxy but orthopraxy. And right now doing the basics needed to live and care for my child drain all of my resources.
So having a faith based on doing instead of being has been invariably hard. Most people find solace in faith during grieving. I, right in this moment, find it an unwanted, unreciprocated chore. My rites are hollow and I find instead of comfort,rage and restlessness.
But guess what? That's completely fucking normal!
It's okay to not be okay. It's okay to be a practicing neopagan who just doesn't give two flying screws that an agrarian feast day is this weekend. Especially when the high day celebrates a return to fertility when you are wrestling with the demise of your own fertile nature.
It's perfectly acceptable to not want to do ancestor work when you are smothering in your own grief from the loss of the life of what was supposed to be your child.
It's perfectly fine to feel distant from deity when in reality you feel distant from every aspect of your own life right now.
The Kindred, no matter your personal religious choices get it. They are still there helping as always. I see it in the outpouring of support and the car ride from a stranger when stranded. In the moment of waking and feeling blessed to have so much when others suffer so much more than I do.
But I am honestly too angry and lost and emotionally unstable to a. Handle group public rite b. Want to have to suppress and contain the place I am currently c. Act like I am okey donkey when I am clearly not.
I hate that I have yet to fulfill promises I made in January. (I have one mitten made. But I really don't want to create gifts in this state of mind. No, I cannot create beauty in this state of mind and you deserve my best efforts. And I thank you for allowing me to if not welsh delay fulfillment.) I hate that I am not 100% me right now.
I hate that I cannot define what "me" is right now.
I am doing 1000% better than my own expectations. But I am so very guilty of thinking that exceeding known past experience means a shortcut to wholeness.
So guess what? There's no yellow brick road through grief and loss. I am not special because I have been here before.
What I am grateful for is the tools to heal, the support of those who love me and the awareness to know I am lost, but it's only a temporary state of being.
I will endeavor to stop rushing through and daily remind myself this too shall pass. But that reminder isn't passive. I have the responsibility to be fully present in the now.
I am desperately trying.