Words have left me. I want to keep writing on my blog, but I can’t seem to find anything relevant to say.
I’ve thrown myself into busy-ness. I’ve been saying yes to things where I wished I had said no. Before this, I haven’t had the “yes” disease, where I overcommit to activities, jobs, and events. I’ve been pretty good at saying no. But not recently.
To be fair, I’ve had a crazy, busy week this week, but things will settle down after tomorrow. Then I’ll have a crazy month this summer where I’ll feel like I’m drowning, but that too will pass. In between and especially after this summer, things should settle down a bit. So, I know this crazy busy-ness of everything I said “Yes” to will not last forever.
The past few months have been a little raw with the passing of my mom. It makes me wonder if I’m pushing past grief, before I’ve had the chance to deal with it – to really come to terms with it.
I think a lot of us are guilty of this. The hurt is too much to process, so we get busy and distract ourselves, telling ourselves we’re moving on with our lives and that we’ve dealt with it.
However, grief can be a sneaky monster. Quietly, and without warning, it blindsides you, and sometimes you can’t even understand what triggered your tears. Sometimes, it’s a memory, or a song that plays, but other times, you’re humming along and BAM! Here comes grief and the pain of missing your loved one.
So, what do we do when that happens? We roll with it, then get busy all over again. Until the next wave comes.
I’m not sure my words are relevant today, because everyone handles grief and pain in their own way.
For me, apparently, I’m in the cycle of being overly busy, and that’s okay for now. I know I can’t stay here any more than I can stay in a pit of grief, unmoving and paralyzed. Both cycles can happen. I guess the trick is not to stay too long in one or the other. And as we do that precarious dance, somewhere along the way we’ll find our footing.
For now, I feel like I’m not writing well — that words have left me. So, I’ve been busy with many other things. But the words will come back, hopefully a little more organized and coherent than today. And I think the only way they’ll come back is if I start writing like I have this time. It’s one step to take to get back into the groove of things, to regain a little more balance. Just like with the waves of grief — you can only ride them out, then take a tentative step back to solid ground.