Grieving a Situation

 As someone that became familiar with grief at a very early age, not the grief of loss but rather the grief of a situation, it's strange to be faced with it again as an adult in a different way. 

When I normally think of grief, I think about the chunks of time in December, January, and July that I permit myself a peek out from under the umbrella that I regularly carry around into the pouring rain around me. Sometimes I even shut the umbrella, choosing to walk in the storm and face some things that are easier dealt with under the shelter that the umbrella provides. Sometimes the storm arrives without me having time set aside to clean and open my umbrella, and so I end up windblown and in need of warmer weather.

All of that to say, I am deeply familiar with grief. The grief of loss. I have lived a portion of my life without some of those dearest to me and as it inches closer to being half of my life, I learn more and more how to deal with it. Deal with it of course, because it never goes away. Someone, I cannot specifically find who, compared grief to a ball in a box. It might get smaller, over time, but it never fully goes away. 

Grieving in 2020 was different than it was before. I lost some more people in my family. I attended at least two funerals. I know of at least three people that had miscarriages. I watched one of my dearest friends go through a situation that tore me apart to watch her endure, but I had no real way to help other than to just offer her my hand and a hug. My dad has been denied a hip replacement a handful of times, mostly because hospitals were too full because of the pandemic to help him. 

December this year was weird. Patrick and I put up our tree (I put up our tree), and decorated it simply, and then didn't even celebrate Christmas. Money was tight because of being laid off, so we opted for celebrating with family and friends without exchanging gifts in the traditional sense. I loved it. I think that every Christmas should be spent like that from here on out. Our Christmas tree is still up, mostly because for a while we were too busy to take it down, and now because of the grief I think I will feel if I take it down. 

December also made six long years since I lost my nana. Six long years since teenage me started a blog on a random writing website (that I eventually transferred to here) to give a middle finger to the "family" members that were treating my parents like dog shit. I didn't use words like shit back then, at least not around anyone other than my immediate friends, but now I do. Tough. I have a pretty neat vocabulary, but sometimes nothing hits as good as an f-bomb. 

Anyways, that week I didn't have time for grief. I ended up exposed to COVID-19, with a high fever and inconclusive test results, and in quarantine with Pat. My mom delivered NyQuil and chicken soup to our door in a box because we hadn't been able to grocery shop, and that was that. We were both sick for a little over a week, and then finally started to feel better, but I remained laid off while Pat safely returned to work. I didn't see my parents for almost three months, and I live fifteen minutes away from them. 

January, like clockwork almost, brought a similar set of circumstances. This time I was spared from the exposure, and was able to see my parents. However, monetarily circumstances went to shit, and I had technical issues with getting unemployment, another lay-off, bills that loomed with due dates too close for comfort, and too much time on my hands. School started back, and the stress of attending classes and turning in assignments swept in to save me from the stress of worrying where stuff was going to come from. It also prevented me from grieving terribly for my grandad, but I spent a lot of that week listening to music and feeling generally lost. 

Something's gotta give, right? That's what I told myself as I planned some time off to go and see my best friend and her little family. Pat and I had been COVID tested, they had all been tested, and we took off to see them. 

As I've become an adult, going to visit my friends has become more like visiting family. Someday when I'm blessed with children I hope that they feel the same way, and understand that family brings so much more than an obligated blood relation. It's about relationships with people that want to have a relationship with you. It's about communication and boundaries. 

Anyways, we arrived in Maryland and I got to spend some much needed time reading, working on homework, and seeing my favorite baby of all time. I call Em everything from my god-baby to my niece, but she'll always know me as Aunt Tori, and that makes me smile to think about. Bethany is a good mom and I'm proud of her. I'm also glad she didn't die last August, but that's a story for a different time. We ate some good homecooked food, had a party for Pat's birthday, went to some bookstores, and even went to this really cool little pet store. 

At the end of our trip it snowed and we got stuck in Maryland for a day later than we'd intended to, and then after we got back into town, it snowed and iced for days on end. Literally. We would both wake up early for work just in case we had to allow extra time to get out of our driveway, and a couple of times couldn't do that. As someone who normally loves the snow, I'll be glad to see the end of winter. 

The following Friday was the Valentine's Day party at daycare, and so I went to Dollar Tree the night before and got all of the stuff I needed to make sixteen treat bags and enough little cards or treats for every room. I took a lot of pride in putting them together, Pat even helped me, and the following morning in my classroom I made bigger treat bags for the kids to put everything into. They were to little to understand exactly how to decorate a box or a bag themselves, so everyone that didn't bring one from home got a normal paper bag with their name and a heart painted on it. They were cute. 

The following week was not cute, as not even a week later I packed up my room and left with a pink slip in my hand. Do not make sacrifices or investments in people or situations that will not make them for you. It's not worth it. I should know this by now, but evidently not, so here I am. 

It's been a few weeks, and several people have reached out with kind words and great big hearts and lots of hugs. I have been working really hard to aim my focus elsewhere, to look ahead and not behind me, by putting more effort into school or by reading more books. I've applied to several jobs, I accepted an invitation into a National Honor Society, I have held my tongue, I have opened my mouth, and I have learned to revert back to what I taught myself while wading through drama in middle and high school. 

Two major things. 

One, what other people think of me is none of my business. Whether it was personal or professional, another person and their thoughts and opinions should have no direct effect on my happiness, even if it has an effect on my situation.

Two, I like myself. I do not hate myself anymore. After about a decade of loathing looking into the mirror, not wanting to crawl out of bed at all, and thinking about dying on a regular basis-- I can say with certainty that, aside from having bad days because depression is a real thing and the battle is one that you have to choose to fight, I don't feel like that. 

The low low came to visit me today, and I have banished it from my presence. As an alternative to staying in bed for the entire day, I chose to get up after Patrick went to work. I turned in all of my homework on time, even got an A on a quiz, and wrote out my schedule for the next couple of weeks. I fed the animals, walked Luna, took a bath, and did some reading. 

And then I decided that I wanted to write about situational grief, so here I am. 

This lapse in my happiness is a result of situational grief. A loss of something that I was caught off guard by, and though I cannot see the immediate other side, it has given me some time to look at my long term goals and reevaluate where I am versus where I want to be. 

Depression has made this hard. I don't want to make it sound easy. Patrick and I actually went to visit his parents and brothers last week because I was low key concerned about slipping into something dark and not being able to get out of it. North Carolina all these years later is still my home away from home, and going to visit my in-laws has become one of my favorite trips to take. Getting to see everyone, and getting to spend time with Patrick in old familiar places, was really good for my mental health. I didn't want to leave. 

So here I am, at this grand (and also not grand at all) impasse in my life, this fork in the road that feels a little bit painful, and I have not the slightest idea of what to do. I have put in applications, made phone calls, applied for unemployment, filed my taxes, read three books, and turned in at least two essays and four tests. I have questioned my own integrity and character, and have decided that this time everything checks out, despite what anyone else wants to believe. 

The death of something familiar in my life that brought me joy will not also be my demise. I refuse to have come this far to let something like that have such a hold on me. It's not like someone has died, or like I have lost a love or a limb, but rather I have been given a (somewhat forced) fresh start. I think I might just take it. 

If you got this far, thank you for following my rant about grief and my life right now. 

Maybe I'll write a book, with all of this free time. I'll at least write here some. And for my English class. It clears my head again to write for others, even if no one wants to read it. It'll be here for me to read later, and for now I'm good enough for me. 

<3