My writing is the worst it’s ever been, I’m not merely thinking of lacking grammar and structure, the act of writing is like wading in tar up to my thighs.
Not quite writers block but not far off either.
I’m all busted up I can’t exercise nor engage in the activities I usually rely on for endorphins.
And since I’m incapable of faking anything I’m just going to write about what’s on my mind even if it veers on the existential side.
At least it’s real and if you think like me, you know grit builds character.
I was gifted a potted flower over Easter and as I’m waiting at the bus stop a passerby ask me what I’ll name it.
This startled me as naming houseplants has never been my custom and I asked him to give me a suggestion.
He says Alexandra and when I ask him why he choose this name,
he tells me it’s the name of the girl who got killed a couple of days before and I went home and cried for a week.
I now have a houseplants that is my niece’s name sake.
As soul probing as I am, it somehow evaded me how very hurt I still am over losing her.
After years of taunting the Swedish political leadership I thought I’d be in trouble going back but it turns out her not being there is worse than anything those charlatans could have thought of.
Truth to be told, I have never been this hurt by anyone.
Her death aged me and it certainly slowed me down. I’m going to be 50 soon and now I for the first time feel my age.
Mourning evolves from initial shock to all consuming grief and slowly, day by day ones soul adjusts to the new reality.
There’s days when I don’t think about it and then there is something causing a flare up and I’m just gutted with grief.
I had my share of misfortunes in life, for so long I embraced it as learning and I refused to be defeated.
One foot in front of the other will eventually get you where you want to be.
Just keep going.
And that’s what I done.
Then last year I was injured and I’m learning of how the limitations influence my overall well being.
I feel like I was done mourning her but maybe I’m just too distracted coping with the injury.
Which brings me to you.
It is critical for your emotional well being to know it’s ok to fall apart sometimes.
And if it happens several times, so be it.
The only thing that matters is how many times you pick yourself up.
Do it again.
I believe it is important to allow the depth of your emotions, be heart broken, wallop in sorrow and feel your souls anguish so that you can cycle trough it.
Once you do, the rebuilding begins, maybe only until next time but with active effort of you taking charge of the pain and steering it, you will be able to heal a little bit more every time until you find yourself developing the ability to compartmentalize the misery because, restricting it you must or it will encroach every aspect of your being.
Happiness is a choice, You have to decide that you are going to be a happy person. It takes commitment.
Even when it’s not going that great you have to clamp down in the sentiment.
But there are times when a hard cry is a radical act of self love.
Let it out. Let go. Grow.