Until the Shock Wears Off

Written December 18,2024

Two weeks tomorrow my mom died, and today it feels like I have a lead ball in my gut, and am just on the edge of biting someone’s face off in a rage that is surly not meant for them. 

I haven’t lost it on anyone, well the lady on the road who was in the rong but hoked at me, I honked back and yell’ed, “I GOT ONE TOO” to her through my rolled up windows. I guess grief comes out in ugly sometimes. 

It’s not even like I am terribly missing her as much as it’s just this terrible heaviness that is settling in that I know will have it’s own process and all I can do right now is allow it its space knowing it won’t be here forever. 

Depression was like that, I ignored things that were hurting me for a very long time until it nearly undid me. I learned not to partner with something as the way it is but to recognize that life is on a cycle and seasons come and go and though I don’t accept it as forever, I understand I need to allow room for the feelings for them to cycle through in a healthy capacity. Today, it sucks balls though. 

It’s gorgeous outside and not even that is relenting the hollow ache in the back of my throat that just sits there without moving, just weighted. 

Everything is just weighted. 

It’s heavy that she died, the unspoken questions are heavy, the what-ifs are heavy, and the reality of today is heavy. If I’m deeply honest with myself, I want to numb it all until it passes. I have had thoughts of ways to self-medicate, seek comfort in external desires, and get in my car and just never look back. I don’t know how I’ll do on all the things, thankfully there is grace rich for each day.