The tricky path of grief…

Sometimes grief is tricky. It can come out of nowhere and blindside you. Bill sent me a message with a spew face emoji in it. Usually, I would have gotten the joke maybe sending something offensive back. We would have gone on our merry way, each enjoying a little humour in our day.

Not this day. I was irrationally distraught. I had stories running in my head about why he would ask me not to do something that annoyed him and attach THAT emoji. Does he think I am gross? What did he mean by it? I was hurting without apparent reason, feeling vulnerable and unsure of myself. It was the cherry on the cake following feelings of melancholy, restlessness, malaise, and a general lack of energy. I wasn’t feeling like myself. Just like depression, but not chronic depression because it hadn’t been going on long enough.

We sorted out the misunderstood emoji; Bill asked me why I felt that way, and I had no idea. Again the next day, he asked the same question. Still, I had no clue.

Then bam! The moment of realisation. It’s grief (more precisely, the stage of grief called depression). It can raise its head at significant events and times surrounding the person you have lost. It’s pretty random; some events are barely a blip on the radar, other times, the whole applecart can be upset. There doesn’t seem to be much rhyme or reason to it. It just happens when it happens. After four years, it is showing no signs of letting up.

It catches me by surprise. Every. Single. Time.

You would think after this much time; I would know to expect it. At least be ready for the possibility of it happening. But no. It is a sneaky depression that does not involve any thought about the upcoming anniversary or event. No direct thoughts about the person you lost or what is being missed. It’s just general sadness or even irritability and impatience.

This is not something you can or need to fix. It is part of a lifelong process of learning to live without someone you treasured. I might even ask Bill to put reminders in his phone. That way, if I start to act out of character, get extra sensitive, or lose motivation, he will know why. He can bring my attention to it, or respond with extra kindness to my grumpy attitude while I traverse the tricky path of grief.

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