I fear that I have done this all wrong. I know there is no "wrong" or "right" way to do this grief thing...but I am wondering if I made a mistake earlier on that is affecting me now.
I was so full of overwhelming shock and trauma when it all happened that I couldn't possibly make a fully wise decision. But I clearly remember, that day, bawling that I couldn't go back home...I just couldn't. And, so there....done. My family made it happen. They found us a new home and I never had to return. I have been so quick to just run from those things that hurt. Run from the place where she died. Run from the memories of her bedroom...her bathroom...her living space. Run from the neighborhood we fell in love with. Run from the scent of her sheets...her clothes...her things. Run from the places that we frequented. Run run run.
I thought I was protecting myself. The pain was great enough as it is...so I couldn't fathom the pain of living in the same house...or being surrounded by everything her. The thought of it felt crippling and horrific. But now? Now...I almost wish I hadn't. Now I wish I had a room to lock myself into and bury myself in her things and just safely weep and weep and weep. Sure, we keep her present in our home. I have shared in a previous post how much we have done to do so. But, it's not the same. Instead I've created this tightly contained "safe" bubble in an effort to protect myself from what I've imagined to be even deeper more stinging pain. I used to want the pain. But I find that I do not anymore. I am so tired of it. But now that I have it so constantly bottled up, I find that I have created this clean and tidy little world that I cannot unleash my inner mess. I have made myself so outwardly numb to everything that I can barely find a trigger to my grief anymore. Well...that's not true...I know my triggers and I avoid them like the plague. I am afraid of them.
I want the pain. I don't want the pain. I want to unleash. I don't want to unleash. I am confused and I feel messy. I don't like messy.