Wednesday, July 27, 2016

Grief Journal- Going Back to Where it Started



He was napping in our hotel room, so since I was so close, I decided- just go look Claire.

So in the car I got, driving the 22 minute stretch of highway 30, back to where it all began.

I hadn't been back to my childhood neighborhood since I moved when I was almost 11.

I turned on the street and just felt pulled back.

But as hard as I looked, and as hard as I tried, I wasn't looking and seeing the places where I built up childhood memories. I couldn't see the place where my dad and I went fishing, or where I had my first slumber party. I didn't see the yard where I caught endless amounts of bugs and snakes.

Nope- all I kept seeing playing in my head over and over again were memories that I'm not sure I was ready to feel at that moment. I saw the tree they tied me to, the field that was once covered in trees that they threw me down at, the little nook between two of their houses where they showed themselves to me the very first time.

Then the most surreal thing happened. I turned the car around and glanced over to one of their houses, and low and behold, he still lives there. Or his parents do. Either way, it was the closest I had been to him since I was 10 years old, so nearly 20 years ago.

I felt my breathing pick up and I turned to stare at the window of my childhood bedroom. I stared at that window for 10 minutes before I put the car in drive and left, this time never to return.

The thing is, I needed to drive there, and I needed to feel those things. I needed those memories to give me closure.

The truth is that I don't know who I would be if it weren't for my years there. I don't know who I would be without those memories. Would I still be me?

After my entire EVERYTHING fell apart last year, my therapist has been taking me further and further back into my past in our sessions. She believes that I needed to get to the core of my grief, because my grief was not over my big losses recently alone, but rather the culmination of loss throughout my life.

But opening the door to the hotel room and seeing him, my guy, the guy who less than 24 hours ago told me he loved me, I felt grounded.

I don't need that place. I don't need those memories. My home is with him, wherever we are, and I'm building new memories.

The many memories and losses may have made me who I am, but they don't define me.

Sometimes I may still cry, sometimes I may still feel it deep down- that pain that surpasses and blinds every other sense. My grief isn't over. But my grief controlling me is.

Even if I build it all up again and the universe decides to again tear it all away, even if forever isn't ever going to be my reality, these moments of happiness and the moments of happiness I had with my kids, they make the loss bearable. Because if it wasn't wonderful and amazing, I would have nothing to grieve at all.

So today, I say "fuck you" to my grief. To my past. To my memories. And I just take his hand and get ready for the next adventure- wherever it leads me.

As always, leave me some comment love. 


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