Selfish Grief

Jul 25 8:24pm – Grief makes me selfish.

It is all about me.  It attacks at will and I – and I alone – must deal with it in that instant.  It is my grief only – only I can feel what it exactly feels like.  Only I can sort out how to deal with it.  It soaks up my health and energy to the point of making me a different person.  It changes my friends.  When grief calls – day or night – I must answer without equivocation.  Grief names me – it has my number.  Oddly enough, grief tempts me to become its friend and it tells me to desire that I be alone – just me and grief.  Grief claims to know me better than anyone else.  

And what I find is that if I push at grief, it pushes back harder.  If I try to avoid grief, it throws itself in my new path.  Interestingly, if I talk about reducing my grief it actually grows stronger.  Grief captures my emotions, conversation, thoughts, actions, and intent.

Grief takes hold of me in real ways and causes me to become very selfish in my effort of dealing with it.  Grief is about me – not about anyone else or anything else.  It takes everything I have to deal with grief.  It is a cancer.

Funny thing, though.  If I don’t deal with grief I believe it will truly and forever become my master.  I can’t allow this, of course.

I write this as I consider my day past and my day tomorrow.  Will I acknowledge grief as my master – giving in to it and becoming weak?  Or will I attempt – with all of my energy and faith – to master my grief and use it as a ladder rung to better things in the future?  

I don’t know sometimes.  Grief is a tempting thing for me – I think that I could spend hours and hours with it.  But to what end?  Will I be able to find relief by fighting through the grief – will there be peace on the other side?

Thank you to all of my friends and acquaintances who have given me space to wrangle and wrassle with my grief.  I need room to do this, it seems.  Plenty of room.  

I think that I must face the grief – squarely – and learn to manage it.  Train it.  Tame it.  Calm it.  But this will take time and space and understanding.  And while I can depend on you to support me and give me guidance and hope and some love, I also understand that – for awhile – this is a path that I must tread alone.

I must get to the other end of the valley. 

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