Featured Image Courtesy: Crosswalk
Before you go ahead, here is a warning, this is not a happy post, it’s not sad either. It is simply an out pour of emotions. If you are still reading, may be you are interested in what I have to say. Rather, what I feel.
Thank you. I respect that.
Raw and unabridged emotion, expressing itself.
It is never easy is it? I mean, you can pretend it never happened. You can pretend everything is back to normal. You can pretend you have “moved on”. You can pretend you are strong enough. You can pretend that you still can put a fight.
And yet, you know every time you look in to the mirror, deep in your eyes, the sadness is lurking in the corner of your eyes, waiting for attention. Waiting for someone to recognize its presence. Sometimes, you ignore. Many times you ignore. For the present needs your attention. The past is past. Everyone knows that! You don’t have the slightest inclination to stop pretending that past matters.
You don’t have. Damn you don’t have.
Yet, it creeps into your existence, like a shadow you never knew existed. Like a tiny sand particle in your eye, at first you think, it’s nothing. Before you know it, you have scratched half the eyelid trying to get rid of it. When, all you needed to do was to surrender and cry. Let the tear take out that sand particle naturally. The body knows it, the brain knows it (that’s why it starts secreting tears), but your hand reaches out and squeezes your eye balls anyway.
Just like grief. You don’t want to grieve. But you pretending not to grieve is probably making it worse.
But how do you know you are grieving? Some say there are 7 stages. But who really cares? Not the person who is grieving. Does that mean, I am grieving? If I am so what?
Honestly, I have been thinking, moving on is the best solution. Quite frankly. There is no escape to grief. There are none. People tell you it will get better. It will not. Time will heal. Liars. Things will change. Bullsh*t.
The truth you ask? If life threw sh*t at you, you f*cking take it. You try and protect yourself from the incoming sh*t, you will only end up getting sh*t all over you. Life ain’t going to get better. Nah. Nah. Those liars will tell you otherwise, dare not believe it for one second.
So, do not pretend that you are an exception, a God sent golden baby. You f*cking take it. And stop pretending that it daisy and not sh*t. It is sh*t. Deal with it.
Hey, before you know it, you are already on your way to grieving heaven. Calling sh*t a sh*t. Calling grief a grief. Calling tear a tear. Calling sadness a sadness.
Calling yourself yourself.
Not someone who is brave, but someone who is vulnerable to the love that was lost.
Not someone who would think that if you pretend long enough you will get over it, but someone who accepts that it is damn f*cking hard.
Not someone who bloody hell is “dealing with it” but someone who is as helpless as his or her dear ones.
Not someone who is trying really hard not to grieve, but someone who is afraid to grieve.
But it is ok.
Grief is not the end.
Somehow calling sh*t a sh*t. Helps.
Even the lousiest wounds gets tended.
Not with time.
Not with people.
Not with love.
But with you.
With you, you begin.
Look at yourself.
Let that sadness envelope you.
Let that sadness overwhelm you.
Let the sadness be.
Let the grief “get” you.
Dive in to the grief.
Do not ask for solace.
Do not ask for happiness.
Do not stop those tears.
You will get to a place.
It has no beginning or end.
Like the darkness has engulfed you. Completely.
And you can’t tell the difference between you and “not you”.
Everything is. Just is.
Like there is no hope left.
That tiny ray of light people talk about.
No. Doesn’t exist.
But, you do.
You know you do.
You feel you do.
Merged completely in to whatever that “is”
Then you breathe.
Not just in to you. But in to “You”
The experience breaths with you.
Suddenly, grief is alive.
The sadness is alive.
The hopelessness is alive.
And the one that was lost is alive.
Along with you.
Being with you.