I erupted this morning, into a hysterical, grieving mess. Grief is like an old friend whom you wish would just leave you the fuck alone. It’s like the school bully, lurking in the shadows, an ever-present threat reminding you that you can’t ever be certain of your own safety.
If I had just paid attention the past few days I would have noticed the return of my pattern-behavior. I had begun going out, keeping way too busy, overlapping plans and staying up way too late, all behaviors that point to an impending meltdown. I fill up every moment of every day in an effort to crowd my brain with minutia so larger, more profound disturbances can’t fit in. I should know by now that they always find their way in. That’s just the way it is.
Curiously enough, once I melted back up, I felt very positive about love and the possibility that I might be able to enjoy it again. Grief is not entirely unlike the boxing match I witnessed as I jumped rope at the gym the other night.
”In the left corner, wearing the black shorts, black tank top, black sneakers and black gloves....Grief!”
And in the right corner, skittishly peaking around the corner in her suit of armor, wearing blue gloves with two rolls of quarters in each fist...”
That’s about how it goes. Maybe it’s time that I start doing the attacking and Grief begins retreating.
I’m happy tonight. I feel better. More positive.
And hungry.
Shneed
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