Coping

Coping

I like to think I can handle my sadness. I spend more time not crying than I do crying. Yay me! I tell myself optimistic things that are conveniently true. Like I've done a lot of pre-grieving. And I'm glad Eli's not suffering. And even things like its nice to be home and not live in a hospital. Also, ugly things like I can do all the grownup things I've been missing the last several years. But you and I both know those things are only part of my reality. Grief Club calls this "coping". I like coping. Coping makes me feel less things. 

I'm sick of being sad. I hate being sad. I've been sad and scared for the better part of a year. Scared is over; I have nothing left to fear. I'm 'bout done with sad, though. Sad can take a hike. 

Lately I've seen all these memes about creating your own reality. (HAAAA! Y'all, that is completely hilarious to me. People who keep sharing those memes are just adorable.) Well, I guess I am creating my own reality. A make believe reality where my sadness is well contained and your sadness does not exist. When someone gets sad in front of me I ignore them. Completely. I am a little sorry because that's a way crappy thing to do. But I don't want to catch someone else's sadness. No thank you.

None of this applies to Ty. He can do and be and feel exactly as he is and I'll let his sadness in. But the rest of the world is on their own. 

I've been reading about the models and stages of grief. They're all dumb, and not true. Grief is not a tidy, organized path. It's more like the ocean, relentless, pounding, swirling. If you are grieving, please listen to yourself and feel your way around and around it. 

Today I did a lot of coping and ignoring others' sadness. Maybe tomorrow I'll do less coping. We'll see.