I feel like I have a boulder dragging behind me everyday since I got the news George was dying. The day he passed that boulder became a mountain and rather than dragging it, I turned around and stared at it. The unforgiving hopelessness and the perpetual wondering if I can carry on consumed my mind, but eventually the massive rock formation returned to a manageable size, and I’m back to tugging it along day to day. But unfortunately, as of late, it is getting heavier and more difficult to manage. I’m staring down a long windy road, and the shadow of this boulder is darkening the path in front of me.
Ive been getting increasingly irritable and angry as the first anniversaries pull closer. I try really hard to distract my mind, but the beats are becoming louder and the melody is crescendoing. I cannot control my anxiety nor do I believe I should continue to do so. I think this is an appropriate emotional reaction to something so unavoidably damaging. For the sake of how I will be viewed at work, I have been deflecting discussions about my grief. But this week, during a 4 hour sexual assault forum, I became very agitated and I realized that this grief must be felt. So I’m slowly turning around to stare at what I assume has transformed into a mountain. I’ll stare at it and give up any efforts of trying to scale or get around it. It’s so gigantic that all I can do is hum and haw until I find a new direction.
I find a tremendous amount of comfort in exercising and escaping to my own little world. When the endorphins are pumping I feel at peace for minutes, hours and sometimes days. But lately, my normal routines aren’t enough. I’m starting to increase the intensity and duration. The discomfort fuels me. Today I biked 45km and ran 10km afterwards. When I was running I had a painful cramp in my side for 5km of it but I decided I couldn’t stop and needed to keep going. Physical pain is nothing compared to the emotional pain I’m enduring right now. So I just go. As I plugged along on my run, I do wonder if George would be proud of me. And sometimes I think he would, but other times I don’t think he would recognize me. I barely recognize myself. I’m not the same girl I used to be. I’m stronger now, but because I’m stronger I will crumble slower but I’m afraid it might take longer to build myself back up.
Can someone wake me when this nightmare is over?