I do not have a lot to say today, or more accurately, I am not really feeling much like writing now. (I am starting to see a trend, and I think writing earlier in the day is going to work out better for me.)
A month ago today, around 4:45PM CST, my Mom passed away. Much like that day, today I am feeling kind of numb and disconnected. I have kept myself somewhat busy, and my mind occupied with work, tasks around the house, and bugging my wife and friends with text messages. I had planned on writing a more lengthy article about this today, but every time my mind started to go there the motivation to write vanished and I found something else to do. I will give it another shot tomorrow… morning.
Grief is a funny thing. Everyone grieves in their own way. I think those of us that are at least a little bit in touch with our fellow humans agree on that. What I am seeing in myself is unexpected. Grief is largely an internal process for me. That part I expected. I only have “Mom time” when I am alone, and I only openly grieve when I am alone. What is unexpected is what is happening when I am not alone. When I am not alone a natural, and automatic, “defense” mechanism of some sort is taking over. I do not consciously feel threatened or vulnerable in any way (emphasis on “consciously”) when I am around others, so I am not sure that “defense” is the correct term. When this “mechanism” activates, one might think the grieving process is over. I am having difficulty explaining… I think the best way to say it is that when I am around any other humans, I feel like I am wearing my normal self like a skin, or a costume, and I am not wearing it because I choose to, or because I want to, I just am. And, in this one particular aspect of my life, I do not feel like my true self again until I am alone.
I am sure if I were to find all of the puzzle pieces of my emotions, and my reactions to those emotions, they would make perfect sense to every head shrink out there, and my emotional state and responses are probably well documented in a bunch of yuppy psych school textbooks. For this old country boy, myself does not make a lot of sense to me right now, so I am just rolling with it and trying to move on.
Grief is a funny thing.
Goodnight. Thanks for reading.
(Maybe I will do my journal entries at night, after all.)