Tip 3: Grieve. Hard.
So, I promise I’m not taking this structure from the 5 stages of grief, although I wouldn’t blame you for thinking that I have. It’s just that this part is really important, at least, in my opinion.
Just my opinion. Don’t believe everything you read on the internet.
This needs to come after the denial, if you’ve chosen to take that path. But it can fly straight at you like a crazed seagull high on vinegared chips. It can hit you like Thomas the fucking Tank Engine when he just can’t calm down. So you may not have a choice.
Remember when I said that denial should only take up so much of your time? This is why. If you take too long, this step will creep up on you and it will only confuse you if you try to take both at the same time. So, my tip? If it’s coming at you, just let it take you.
There is such a thing as toxic positivity, as I’m sure you are aware, being an independent person on the whole world wide web. Some people get scared of being dragged under, of being taken away by that cold, dark part which lurks in the edges of your mind. It can be scary, and in some cases, it can be deadly. If you have depression, be careful with this step. I’m sure you know why I’m saying that.
Although it comes with another warning, I’m basically just saying that it’s okay to feel sad. The reason that some positivity can be toxic is because it is unhealthy to deny that you’re feeling miserable. In sterner words – your life has just blown to bits and nothing, nobody is safe. Act like it, for God’s sake.
That being said, nobody grieves in the same way. I can’t really tell you what to do and I’m not really trying to. I have an overactive imagination – always have and, I suspect, always will – so the way I coped was with sad music and imagining all the ways I could express just how much my life had been blown to bits. My imaginary world was flooded with images of my woe and rage. It was different from my pervious trauma. Before, I had joked about my childhood in the right circles and gained laughs, an interesting place between laughing at the monsters in my head and acknowledging that they existed – a traumatised high for me, personally. But when my life blew up into small pieces again, it was nothing like before. I didn’t want to laugh about it, I couldn’t even begin to think of a funny joke about it. The idea was too embarrassing, too raw. In fact, any joke about it felt like a cheese grater on sensitive skin. It hurt. But joking about it is another part of grieving.
It's not just about feeling sad. I guess, more than anything, it’s about feeling. You need to feel the rage, the pain, the sadness, the loss and the longing.
Sincerely, A Certified Mess
