May is Mental Health Awareness month. You've probably seen at least one post on social media circulating about it. One site I read described it "to help eliminate the stigma associated with mental illness by raising awareness of mental health conditions and those who have them." Stigma keeps people from getting help. I am not a mental health expert so what I have to say is only based on my own observations and experiences with myself and others.
I also want to take the time to mention "mental health" without the added words of "illness or conditions" - talking in terms of mental wellness and mental well-being as a continuum- the fluctuations we experience in life - the ups and the downs- and being able to feel them - to share them.
Grief is... a lot. I posted on Instagram how I have been blogging for 4 months as a "milestone". About an hour later I was sitting on my loveseat. It's lumpy from my time being quarantined with covid. I turned on Psych to watch reruns - a comfort show with some quick witted humor that I have missed. My curtains were open. I had supper in my lap - a grilled cheese, cauliflower, and ranch -lots and lots of ranch [don't judge me]. And let's be real the cauliflower is just a vehicle for the ranch. I looked outside as the rain fell. I could see a wall of green trees blowing, popping against a drab grey sky. It reminded me of the first time I watched Twilight so many years ago. It was a whole mood.
I sat there, grilled cheese on my lap, and started to cry. No, not cry - sob. The rain - a fitting soundtrack. My heart grew heavy and the suffocating feeling of grief began to consume me. How does it take your breath so quickly? Where did it come from? Why today? Why right now? I don't know what triggered it.
So I think back. I went into Lowe's today. I saw the parking spot. I saw the bench. I took a couple steps toward it but then back to the door. I remembered standing in front of the door with the ambulance to my left and another one to my right. I didn't cry. I didn’t stop. I just kept walking.
Maybe it was the grilled cheese. Years ago, a friend taught me how to make a top notch grilled cheese sandwich. I taught my dad. Some days when I get really crazy I put apples on it - whaaaat?!
Whatever the reason, I started to miss my dad - really miss him. I miss my friend. I miss my dad. It hit me he is not here. He won’t be here. I ached. I felt pain. I longed to see him - to just sit with him and be in his presence. Oh how I miss it. How I miss just being around him. How I miss the girl I was with him. How I miss that feeling.
It all started to seem unfair again. I was quickly taken back to the last moments I had with him. I stared at his picture and thought "where did he go? It shouldn't be this way. That man wasn't ready. He still had so much more to give". We are approaching 9 months since his death. Time has been both excruciatingly slow and fast at the same time - oh the complexities of time.
Then, I drove to my niece's t-ball game - still in a little cloud of grief. Somewhere along the way it started to overtake me again and tears streamed down. I wiped them away in the parking lot [I use that term loosely]. And then I smiled and clapped and watched her with her little grin.
On the drive home, music played from my phone. I skipped so many songs. I stopped on the more melancholy of the bunch. I couldn't listen to my "Feeling it" playlist. So many things remind me of my dad. I rode with him all the time. We commented on things we observed all the time. I left the ball park and tried to remember which road he always took.
I saw the shortcut through the school parking lot. I remember the story of him messing up his dad's car in that same parking lot - trying to fit it through an entrance with his brother I think. I was driving his car - the car I saw for the first time @ Logan's - the car that he picked out - the one with all the safety features. He knew it'd be the last car he bought and he wanted it to have all the bells and whistles. Driving it with all that in mind - the last car he bought - to keep us safe, to keep him safe - is very poignant.
I thought about memories. I thought about how my dad lives through our memories and I felt pressure - pressure to remember and pressure to represent those memories. It's pretty crushing to realize there is already so much I have forgotten. And it's cruel. Because it's almost like he dies again as the memories fade - the memories keep him alive and with us, in a sense. He is only able to exist in the memories we share.
I came home and felt compelled to write about this experience. It's not a super long post, but it's important to me. It's important as the posts continue, to remember grief is still present in my life. From what I've been told, it always will be. I am slowly learning how to live with it and see it for all that it is.
Because so much of grief affects me mentally - so much of grief affects us mentally. These journeys look so different for everyone. But I write about mine to put it out there, even though sometimes [most times] it's scary and a little [a lot] uncomfortable. Why? Why do I do it?
Because grief is hard. And I believe so deeply in wanting to help make sure others are able to "weather the storm" long enough to get to a clearing - a place where the weight shifts ever so slightly. Or to not be afraid to ask for help - to find help. Or to paint enough of a picture that you are able to show up differently for your friends and family.
I want people to "see the hard parts". I think it's important to see the whole picture. I have had some really encouraging days where I was so motivated - so ready to take on everything thrown at me - so ready to step into something new. I could post some really inspirational message or quote. See? See where I am now? Yes, yes I am that person AND I am also someone who still grieves the loss of my dad - I always will. Again, I am reminded of that WandaVison quote:
But what about where I was? It's hard to relate to "after" when there is no "before". I took the biggest hit of my life and I got hit over and over and over again. It felt like there was no relief in sight -there was no relief in sight. I had to have blind trust. I couldn't even open my eyes before the next blow landed. And today, almost 9 months after, I took another hit. But this time, I was able to open my eyes the very next day - with a heavier heart than other days - but the onslaught of hit after hit wasn't there.
My mental health took a hit when my when my boyfriend [of several years] broke up with me. My mental health took a hit when my dad died. It was because of other people sharing their experiences online that I knew right away I wanted to go to therapy. And it wasn't the words of people thriving after loss. It was the words of despair.
So I write.
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