My Friends are Mean

Ok not really.

But when my grief drags me down, tries to keep me indoors, hiding in my room, my friends can get mean.

This weekend, I casually mentioned to a friend that I wanted to check out the Gran Fondo as it passed by Mamquam School.

She said … Ok, let’s go. I’ll get dressed.

I didn’t *really* want to get out of the house, I just thought it might be interesting.

But she got me out of the house.

Then my kid took me to the city.

Then there were the other friends who were holding the bbq who wanted me to come by.

Sunday my friend who got me out of the house in the morning on Saturday, showed up with stuff for baking, and we baked all day.

And THEN she made me take her to the derby recruitment night.

I did not have one single chance to wallow in my grief this weekend.

I did not get a chance to be depressed.

My friends (and family) are mean.

Overall – it was a very good weekend. Aside from the busy-ness of it – I took the time to sit in the dark with candles and soft music playing and just “be” with my thoughts on Saturday and Sunday nights.

I’m feeling stronger today. I’m feeling good. I miss him, but I feel like I can face today, with whatever it might bring.

 

I’m learning to dance….

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One thought on “My Friends are Mean

  1. Hadassah Hannah says:

    I’m glad you have friends like that. Just don’t get so busy that you exhaust yourself — grieving is hard (but necessary) work.

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