You can’t stuff grief.
You can’t put it away in a pretty little box and expect that when you bring it out to play it will be docile.
Grief doesn’t work that way.
Grief is the wildcat you managed to shove in a bag. Hissing and spitting and ready to claw your eyes out should you be stupid enough to stick your head in the bag.
If you don’t tame it, domesticate it, take the time to get to KNOW it, feel it, and learn to accept each other’s company, it will always destroy you.
You may “appear” to be doing well.
You may “seem” to be fine.
But behind closed doors…. away from other eyes… the wildcat comes back when you least expect it.
Right now, I’m fighting the tears.
I’m trying to keep it bottled up. I’m trying to push it aside. I want to have a pleasant evening. I don’t want it to be dramatic and emotional. I want to snuggle up to my sweetie and just revel in the joy I’ve found.
But something triggered me and dammit… I’m fighting tears.
It really really really sucks.
Oh on a funny note – while I was at the roller derby boot camp – I was talking to someone about my skating history, and mentioned my 2012 had sucked.. he’s like, oh, the big D? Divorce?
I’m like no. the other one. Death.
Yeah. Not really funny. But it is in a twisted sort of way.