What Happens to My Grief When the Rest of the World Stops

OK, this is going to sound “crazy.” And maybe I am at this point. Maybe we all are. But I miss my grief. I miss the simplicity of it all. Now before you start screaming at me that grief is not simple, just please listen.

I had my grief and I had my life. And my grief sucked. It would swallow me whole and spit me out on the other end all battered and bruised. I was anxious and scared and confused and would question myself over and over about what was the right way to grieve. I was sad and just lost. Grief is hard.

But I always had my life to fall back on. I had my job and grocery shopping and signing up kids for soccer and dance and planning for holidays and birthdays. I could call the baby sitter and spend a night out with my husband or meet up with friends or work on a school project with my middle schooler. And even when grief really sucked, I had my life to fall back on. The world kept spinning and there was always so much that needed to be done.

I used to curse the grief/life balance because in the beginning, it was so hard. I struggled keeping up with everyone’s “stuff,” never mind my own. But I’ve been in a groove that worked for me for the last few years, and I was really starting to feel like I had made huge strides on where I was with my grief.

But the unimaginable has happened and the world has stopped. Suddenly my life of distractions has come to a grinding halt. And it’s a lot to take in. It’s a lot to be with myself and my thoughts without all of the outside noise again.

It has become almost overwhelming. Because at least when my grief was really bad, the worst ever, I could still keep busy and happy, because I really do enjoy doing things for/with my family and friends. I’ve lost the part of myself that kept me moving and hopeful. My daily life was my constant. The planning and the preparing for whatever was next is gone. My life and grief have become so intertwined and complicated.

My grief and my life are no longer separate. The whole world seems to be feeling the same way I have felt for the past seven years, and it is killing me. Because I wouldn’t wish this on anyone. The profuse amount of uncertainty and anxiety and loss of normal life is all too familiar to me. And the life I once considered as my refuge from grief is no more.

If you are grieving during this time, I see you. I know how hard this is. You are not alone.