Moving on is weird. Part of you feels like it is impossible and you will never be able to “move on”. I don’t even like the term but for lack of a better one that’s the term, I’ll use. When my son passed away, I didn’t think I would make it a week let alone a year. At first, there wasn’t a single moment that I didn’t think about him, not a day, not a second. He consumed my thoughts.

The months following our loss were intense and tough, I was shattered and it seemed that every effort I made to be put back together was in vain because it didn’t work. I could fall apart at any moment. As you live through grief, you learn that grief isn’t linear, that people want you to get over it, that most don’t understand, that you will NEVER be the same, and that you have to go at your own pace.

Like I said earlier, there were many days where all I could think about was my baby, and then days where I only thought about him 50 times. Now there are days where I think of him and don’t break, but there are still days that break me. In this process, you’re hard on yourself when you spend hours thinking about the person you lost and then you’re unforgiving when you don’t. As if you’re somehow betraying your loved one’s memory when you aren’t thinking of them. Grief doesn’t teach us much about balance, grief likes it to be one way or the other.

I won’t let grief tell me what to do, I will learn how to live and grow through my grieving process. No one can tell me what it looks like; no one can tell me how long. Moving from one stage of grief to the other (and then back again) is weird, “moving on” is weird. I have been forever changed by my losses and therefore I will carry the effects of them forever.

 

This post is part of Stirrup Queens #Microblogmondays

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