Grief doesn’t know it is grief.
It doesn’t know what it’s producing…it just IS.
You’re trying with all your might to get out of it, to get away from it...but it’s not like that--it’s in your story now. So, you must find ways to not have ITcontrolYOU…your thoughts, your sight, your speech, your heart, your soul…or it will turn what little light you have left into darkness. You’re already surrounded by darkness…you don’t need to be enslaved in the abyss where there’s no way out.
Thought…instead of having IT define YOU…YOU define IT-put it in its place as a piece of your story. Don’t let it BE your story. Don’t let it consume you.
Honestly, some days this all works better than other days and some days it’s back to the edge of the abyss. But when it does work it’s a small, yet significant movement forward on the journey. Desperately trying to move forward.
Grief doesn’t know it is grief
It tramples over people, ideas, conversations and relationships...moving slow and steady then running ahead. It has no course or path. It can be like a machete in the jungle of earth just trying to get SOMEWHERE…ANYWHERE BUT HERE… where it hurts constantly.
In the process of trying to survive it may take down a few trees, bushes, flowers…it loses sight of the tall grass and just swings-broad strokes, never meaning to hurt, bruise or dismantle…
just meaning to breathe…
one good breath…
please.
Grief doesn’t know it is grief
It can be a tomb of isolation, an erupting volcano or a broken faucet-a constant drip...drip…drip…drip…
One is not worse than the other…it’s all grief.
It doesn’t apologize for its withdrawn identity, its outbursts or its constant battle with dripping because it doesn’t know that it IS. It gets caught in its own circle of pain so that it only remains true to itself...never to leave the circle.
Time is the only thing that has a chance at giving grief “eyes” …a way to see past the hurt and actually look out at the surrounding environment--the devastation…the reality. Time is a way out.
…and it’s a way in. Once turned inward, if all that’s there and all that is left is anger, fear, anxiety, darkness and morbid hatred for everything and everyone…it will be a frightening reality.
But what if…
there is a chance…a whisper…a seed…a hope that has been planted through the course of time, so that when grief looks inward it will see a small, microscopic beginning of life…a birthplace of courage.
This is something to build on.
A way to continue the journey.
A place to cultivate…
to start to live...to give…to love
to begin a beginning…
joni miller*pages from my journal- {journal entry-3/17/18}
©Joan Miller, UBP
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