Alone in a Crowded Room

I am struggling today.  I knew I would.  As the world goes back to its normal pace, I have to figure out my new normal and I’m just not sure how to do that.  You see, grief is a funny thing.  No two people ever experience grief the exact same way.  In fact, no one person ever grieves the same way twice.  People ask how you’re doing and you tell them you’re okay.  On the outside, you seem okay. But you’re not okay.  You’re broken.  You’re not the same person you were.  How can you be?  A piece of you is gone.  It all feels surreal.  You try to make sense of it and you just can’t.  Mornings are difficult.  Convincing yourself to get out of bed and face the day is a challenge.  Nights are equally so.  You’ve made it through the day and the thought of having to do it all over again tomorrow is anxiety driving.  Somedays you’re wandering through a thick fog – trying to make sense of anything.  Other days, the fog is thinner, you can see just far enough ahead to feel safe.  As days pass, you have more of the latter than the former, but at the beginning, your world just spins.  And then out of no where, you remember.  You remember they’re gone.  The finality of it all is a sudden crushing realization that takes over your entire body.  People reach out.  People want to help.  They tell you they’re there for you, and they are.  But you can’t think straight.  You can’t see straight.  You can’t explain how you’re feeling.  You don’t know how they can help. You’re surrounded by all of these people yet you can’t help but feeling like you’re all alone in a crowded room.  And that’s grief.

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