Grief On The Fourth Of July

I feel weak. Physically weak. And nauseous. And my scar hurts… a “physical memory” my therapist says. I like to think it just makes me more like Harry Potter, except for the part that when his scar hurt, it was because Voldemort, Pure Evil, was near. Death is Pure Evil and will be the last enemy to be destroyed.¹ But man, I wish it would be the first enemy to go. I wish it wasn’t part of being human, but since the time of Adam and Eve, it has been.

Grief strikes at the oddest times. So today, I am weary. I am alone in bed listening to sad music (see my “On the Mend” playlist on Spotify). It’s the fourth of july but I feel like I have the emotional stomach flu. I am weary. My stomach tenses up. I have to conscientiously unclench it. It’s done that ever since surgery. I actually have been throwing up but I don’t know when or why it happens. I am tired. I slept for 17 hours last night. I think one way my body deals with grief is by physically shutting down. I was invited several places today for the celebration but I’m not going to any. It’s too sad… it’s all too sad. And that is okay. It’s okay to stay in for the night, sometimes. To curl up in bed with a book literally called, The Path of Loneliness, by Elisabeth Elliot.

I remember the fourth five years ago. Sitting in the home I shared with some friends Sitting alone and staring at a wall. I was in the worst depressive episode of my life (the worst because it was unmedicated). I think I called my dad and he drove across Chesapeake to make sure I didn’t kill myself (yes, it was that bad).

Celebration can be the worst thing for a grief-stricken person, embedding bitterness deep within his or her psyche. So I chose to not party today, to not celebrate with my friends. To not pretend to be happy when I’m not. And that’s okay. Sometimes it’s okay for the grief-afflicted to take a breather. I definitely did today. I stared blankly into space for hours before I called my dad up, so much like Father God, and told him all that afflicted me. But the end of our conversation I was cracking jokes. Grace.

I know I’ve had so many stream of consciousness posts lately and I’m sorry, it’s just the place I’m in. But if I could convey one thing to those that are grieving it would be that it’s okay to take a break. Breathe. Scream. Whisper. Believe. Don’t believe. You have permission. Much love, Anna

1. "The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death" (1 Cor. 15.26 KJV).