Good Morning Grief

Those are the first words I wrote in my journal today.  Good Morning Grief.  Are you still here?
Answer - yes I am and are you going to address me.

I sit in this place of "retreat" in stillness and allow the grief to emerge.  The sad feelings come, the memories roll, the fears, the loneliness, all of it comes and I sit with it.  Hoping that acknowledging and feeling all of it will eventually lessen its power over me.  Hoping.

Following Chuck's surgery he was in the hospital for almost a week.  During that time he rested and the doctors and the nurses tended to him and gradually he was strong enough to go back home.  In some way, that is how I feel about this time in Southport.  I am here following the surgery that was the loss of Chuck and my body and soul are recovering from the shock of it.  Geoff and Vicky are tending to me and my "medicine" is resting, writing, reading, walking and just being.  We also do things like watch TV together and have wonderful meals.  It is a place of recovery I hope.  This image helps me not to feel sadness about my sadness, grief about my grief and distress about my distress.  I need to get away from the judging voice within me about how i am doing the work of grieving.

i read in my book on Grieving Mindfully about "Alchemy" that can happen.  Here are some quotes from it:

The alchemists were concerned with a profound spiritual process - how to transform coarse experiences , such as distress, suffering and ignorance into meaningful and sublime experiences such as compassion, transcendence and self actualization.

Even when emotional pain continues, Carl Rogers believed accepting the hardship and challenge of emotional pain is the act of accepting yourself unconditionally, not just when you are feeling good.

Two nights about I had a dream in which Chuck came back and I held onto his sleeve and wanted him to explain what had happened and i was afraid he was going to leave again.  Later in that dream there was a scene where I was walking around without any pants - which is - a symbol of vulnerability.

All of which is to say that I do feel very vulnerable in my grief.  I like to be positive, upbeat and planning for the future.  Instead I am living in a grey space and cannot right now imagine what the next year is going to look like for me.

Five weeks ago today was Christmas Eve.  I sat beside Chuck and said goodbye to him.  And everything has changed.  So I am where I am right now.  Here.  Believing in the possibility of Alchemy but living on the other side of it in grey, distressing Grief.

Good Morning Grief.  Again.  Today.