There. I said it. I'm fucking sad.
I know I am not supposed to be sad. I know I am supposed to be over it - or at least that belief is there, and it's a strong one.
"Carry On"
"Be happy"
"Don't show that you are struggling"
"Don't put your shit on others"
Wow.
Grief is so incredibly strange. By strange I mean that it can go undetected for a very long time, and in many different ways disguising itself as something else.
Fatigued, depression, despair, hopelessness, disinterest, anger, frustration, an inability to communicate or cope, addiction, relationship issues, retreating ...etc etc ETC.
I really had no idea.
My sister says that grief is an opportunity to deal with deeper stuff. And she's right. But god, it's so damn deep. It's shit on top of shit - the well of shit seems never ending, but I have to keep pulling the rope up and emptying it out - I can't stand here and hold the rope anymore, my arms are tired. Sometimes just as I think the wound is starting to heal, it feels like someone is pouring salt in the open wound and then digging around with a knife. Only the open wound is in my heart.
It's been 1 year and 7 months since Dad has been gone from our physical lives. I honestly thought I was doing really well. I thought I was present with it all. I really did.
It's not until recently (3 weeks now) that I've cleaned up my life - my diet and my habits, and the truth really started to reveal itself. As I gaze back over the hazy past 19 months I wonder what the hell happened?
Hindsight...it's a son of a bitch.
My commitments and ability to "show up" have suffered. My job suffered, my yoga practice/teaching suffered, my relationships have suffered, my communication skills have suffered. Being in this body, having this physical experience has been excruciating at times - like being in a straight jacket fighting to get out.
I feel that I need to tell the truth - not as an excuse for any of my behaviour but to give everyone permission to tell their own truth. I have often caught myself thinking "people die Grace. It's a normal part of life. Get over it" - stripping the permission away to feel how I feel because of some made up standard where we all just carry on, and do what needs to get done.
This is not going to turn into a rant on eating well or being healthy - but I will say this:
I have had to get real with my emotions since changing my diet and giving up alcohol, coffee, sugar, gluten and dairy. I can no longer eat mindlessly to numb the pain - or rather shift it somewhere else which really just creates more "different" pain. Since changing my habits I have had to stare my grief and depression right in the face and let it come, sit with it and allow it to move on. Changing my overall habits (eating, sleeping, exercise, toxic relationships, busyness/time wasters) has changed my relationship with mySelf.
Holding on to emotional pain is something we do every single day. We think that we are ignoring it. But what's happening is that we are not allowing ourselves to feel it. When we can feel the pain, we experience what it needs to show us, how it needs to transform us and then it moves on.
Here's a blog post about resistance and it has really helped facilitate all of this for me:
http://onewithnow.com/welcoming-this-moment/
Last night something came up for me, I was angry about it and it became the salt in the wound. I decided instead of eating or yelling at everyone in my house, I would go for a walk and call one of my dearest friends - as we got talking and she held space for me and just listened, the emotion I'd been carrying around for the last year and 7 months came up into my throat like an energetic ball of pain. I cried. Like really cried. I cried so hard it felt raw in my throat, and I didn't stop until I felt complete.
The relief after was staggering. I had to sit down when I arrived back home from my walk because the lack of heaviness was throwing me off balance. It was light, it was the absence of something dark and heavy in my chest.
I'm starting to understand what it means to "sit" and to "pause" with my experience. I thought I understood it all before. I talk about it in my yoga classes so frequently and yet I had forgotten (or didn't quite know how) to do it myself.
I'm sad. I miss my dad. I'm scared to forget him, the sound of his voice, the brightness in his hellos, his contemplative advice, his sloppy kisses and his shaky hugs.
What I forget is that he lives in me. A part of me, is very much a part of him and he is very much alive in me. I am intelligent like my father, I have a constant hunger for learning like he did. His voice is deeply rooted in my own. I can hear him when I open my mouth.
And so, with this sadness I see there is fear. There is fear that I have lost him, and I'm learning now that this can never be so. He's there when I look in the mirror, staring back at me, if I can only pause to take a second look.
I know I am not supposed to be sad. I know I am supposed to be over it - or at least that belief is there, and it's a strong one.
"Carry On"
"Be happy"
"Don't show that you are struggling"
"Don't put your shit on others"
Wow.
Grief is so incredibly strange. By strange I mean that it can go undetected for a very long time, and in many different ways disguising itself as something else.
Fatigued, depression, despair, hopelessness, disinterest, anger, frustration, an inability to communicate or cope, addiction, relationship issues, retreating ...etc etc ETC.
I really had no idea.
My sister says that grief is an opportunity to deal with deeper stuff. And she's right. But god, it's so damn deep. It's shit on top of shit - the well of shit seems never ending, but I have to keep pulling the rope up and emptying it out - I can't stand here and hold the rope anymore, my arms are tired. Sometimes just as I think the wound is starting to heal, it feels like someone is pouring salt in the open wound and then digging around with a knife. Only the open wound is in my heart.
It's been 1 year and 7 months since Dad has been gone from our physical lives. I honestly thought I was doing really well. I thought I was present with it all. I really did.
It's not until recently (3 weeks now) that I've cleaned up my life - my diet and my habits, and the truth really started to reveal itself. As I gaze back over the hazy past 19 months I wonder what the hell happened?
Hindsight...it's a son of a bitch.
My commitments and ability to "show up" have suffered. My job suffered, my yoga practice/teaching suffered, my relationships have suffered, my communication skills have suffered. Being in this body, having this physical experience has been excruciating at times - like being in a straight jacket fighting to get out.
I feel that I need to tell the truth - not as an excuse for any of my behaviour but to give everyone permission to tell their own truth. I have often caught myself thinking "people die Grace. It's a normal part of life. Get over it" - stripping the permission away to feel how I feel because of some made up standard where we all just carry on, and do what needs to get done.
This is not going to turn into a rant on eating well or being healthy - but I will say this:
I have had to get real with my emotions since changing my diet and giving up alcohol, coffee, sugar, gluten and dairy. I can no longer eat mindlessly to numb the pain - or rather shift it somewhere else which really just creates more "different" pain. Since changing my habits I have had to stare my grief and depression right in the face and let it come, sit with it and allow it to move on. Changing my overall habits (eating, sleeping, exercise, toxic relationships, busyness/time wasters) has changed my relationship with mySelf.
Holding on to emotional pain is something we do every single day. We think that we are ignoring it. But what's happening is that we are not allowing ourselves to feel it. When we can feel the pain, we experience what it needs to show us, how it needs to transform us and then it moves on.
Here's a blog post about resistance and it has really helped facilitate all of this for me:
http://onewithnow.com/welcoming-this-moment/
Last night something came up for me, I was angry about it and it became the salt in the wound. I decided instead of eating or yelling at everyone in my house, I would go for a walk and call one of my dearest friends - as we got talking and she held space for me and just listened, the emotion I'd been carrying around for the last year and 7 months came up into my throat like an energetic ball of pain. I cried. Like really cried. I cried so hard it felt raw in my throat, and I didn't stop until I felt complete.
The relief after was staggering. I had to sit down when I arrived back home from my walk because the lack of heaviness was throwing me off balance. It was light, it was the absence of something dark and heavy in my chest.
I'm starting to understand what it means to "sit" and to "pause" with my experience. I thought I understood it all before. I talk about it in my yoga classes so frequently and yet I had forgotten (or didn't quite know how) to do it myself.
I'm sad. I miss my dad. I'm scared to forget him, the sound of his voice, the brightness in his hellos, his contemplative advice, his sloppy kisses and his shaky hugs.
What I forget is that he lives in me. A part of me, is very much a part of him and he is very much alive in me. I am intelligent like my father, I have a constant hunger for learning like he did. His voice is deeply rooted in my own. I can hear him when I open my mouth.
And so, with this sadness I see there is fear. There is fear that I have lost him, and I'm learning now that this can never be so. He's there when I look in the mirror, staring back at me, if I can only pause to take a second look.
With love and gratitude,
Grace Karyn
Wow Grace. Powerful stuff. I am glad we started chatting the other day. You were the cherry on the ME day I had finally realized I needed. I as I mentioned, I have depression as well and have been in the bottom of a hole for weeks as well. The truth is it has been longer. I have been in the hole( as I call my depression) for years. I didn't even remember how it felt not to be depressed until Sunday afternoon. I had energy and I actually feel physically lighter. I feel like a sparkle now. And that changed all because of a few things. They may not work for all but they helped me. I took a bath. Listened to some meditative music, a guided meditation and a chakra cleanse meditation. I soaked in there until I was good and ready. Finally I went out and was social. I was a super social girl once. I looked forward to outings with friends. Loved a good hang out. For too long I have avoided even my closest friends. I have lost too many awesome people because I didn't have it in me. I didn't have the energy to leave the house let alone pay attention to my best friend's needs. But I am taking steps to reconnect with the couple of ladies that still return my phone calls. And working to make friends with some new ladies... hint hint.
ReplyDeleteI am so releaved to read your post. I can relate to what you have to say. I was telling my man last week. I am just so tired of fighting the depression. I am exhausted. I have hope now that I have tools. Just need to remember them in the dark moments. Maybe schedule them into life. Upkeep so to speak. If you ever need anything, pop me a message on facebook or get ahold of Scott for my number. Thank you for popping up when you did. I needed a lifeline.