vulnerability

I feel physically nauseous with grief. I carry it in the pit of my stomach. Some days I can handle food and I even notice myself wanting it. While other days, it's a mental battle to force myself to bite and swallow. Even coffee has become off putting for me. I wrinkle my brow at that for coffee has always been a comfort but this time around, I don’t find one ounce of comfort in it. But I still drink it because coffee really is a big part of me and I still want to recognize my coffee love a lil. I don't want to just throw everything I know to the wind now.

I love people, maybe even more than I used to, or maybe it's like this - I appreciate people more than I used to. A whole new level of perspective has started growing in me. I realise I need people. I realise we all are just a wonky mob of fragile humans. Even the strongest breeds die. I'm starting to see humans - as humans. Not in a degrading way, more in a ‘’hey we a lot more same than different’’ way.

I can carry conversation. I can laugh with people. I can bounce jokes back and forth. I can smile a genuine smile. I can teach. But oh. The grief is right there, it does not budge one speck. Its constant pounding ache reminds me every second of every day what I lost.

Yesterday I didn't cry. That's odd for me. But I'm finding out, sometimes even tears don't come, yet that doesn't mean that the grief is any less.

I had a dream that her name popped onto my phone. Not a good moment. I literally pray that I don't have any dreams of her. Cuz those dreams promote a twisted agony. Maybe one day, dreams of her will be a comfort but those days are not these days.

And this morning I wake up and I hear rain drumming the roof and all I think about it how much eddie rose loved her rainstorms. So I open my window and sit in the window seat and drink coffee and read Psalms 39 and try to focus on the moment but if I'm learning anything its that personal devo time is looking a whole lot different than it used to.

I am learning that just because someone goes through grief does not mean that gives a ticket to be rude. I still am called to be kind and respectful.

Ok. I write that all and then I wonder if I'm curling inward too much. Idk. I just don't want to let grief make me curl into myself and shrug my eyes off Jesus and host this dazzling pity party of me me me.

Writing helps me cope. and I'm not offended if for you, reading these words hinders your personal coping-ness, then by all means, please don't read this.

All I wanna do is carelessly heap a mammoth blanket over my head and watch a zillion videos to numb reality. But fifteen minutes away sits a one room school house that holds a planner that needs to be filled out for this week's assignment. So I go.

So. Ya. Basically. I just realize I'm in a very vulnerable place right now.

K I'm done talking now.