Right out of the gate; “I’m fine (& other lies)” is such a freaking brilliant title!
I’m so inspired by your thoughts and writing…. I feel so much resonance with the concepts of your weighted scramble over the rocks. When you mentioned yesterday, the concept of the sac of grief, it stayed with me all day and I even illustrated it in my own journal.
The way I see it is that the sac or backpack is invisible to almost everyone else, except ourselves, and others who carry the same weight. And it’s so important to be seen. When they die, we lose that mirror of ourselves, that reflection of who we are and how they saw us.
When Rob died I carried a rant inside me at the fashion industry that had hijacked black clothing and a society that had stopped the tradition of wearing black for morning. Where is my black dress that says, for all to see, “I’m not ok!! My love has died!!”??
Thank you for your words so that we might see a reflection of ourselves in them.
These words so aptly describe early grief, slogging through mud, the physical pain, exhaustion. Your writings are so accurate, soul bearing and poignant. Thank you for putting words to what I felt and continue to feel. <3
I love your words and your writing, Dana! As always!
Your words mirror so many of my own thoughts and feelings - and they make me twist and turn my own belifs.
Going from a we to a me changed everything.
At first I thought I could beat grief. I believed that if I just kept life running and said yes to everything, I would be able keep my head above the surface in the mud puddle of grief I felt as if I was thrown into.
I couldn't have been more wrong.
I don't think that grief will ever ease or that I will feel better about my husband being gone. Nor do I think everything has to have a positive outcome, a silver lining. However, I do believe that time will help me to find ways to live alongside my grief - and - as another beautiful widow friend reminded me yesterday - hold two emotions at the same time.
But it's hard work and it's all on my own shoulders. It's an ongoing process.
The sack of grief won't become lighter just by itself, but the heavy burden of carrying it will differ depending on how long treks I will choose to walk at a time.
I finally had a chance to read this, and I love it so much, Dana. It really is the perfect metaphor and the part where you described the different types of terrain you have to traverse with your weighted pack (while getting lost, falling, getting banged up) was so spot-on. I backpacked Europe for a month when I was 23, so this whole piece resonated with me so much — the pack was SO heavy at first and I was so sore from all the walking, blisters, and the weight literally bearing down on my shoulders. But in time, I barely noticed it was on my back…it really did become an extension of my body; part of me. Thank you for sharing this…I love reading words you’ve written from different points along your grief road. 💛💛💛
Dana,
Right out of the gate; “I’m fine (& other lies)” is such a freaking brilliant title!
I’m so inspired by your thoughts and writing…. I feel so much resonance with the concepts of your weighted scramble over the rocks. When you mentioned yesterday, the concept of the sac of grief, it stayed with me all day and I even illustrated it in my own journal.
The way I see it is that the sac or backpack is invisible to almost everyone else, except ourselves, and others who carry the same weight. And it’s so important to be seen. When they die, we lose that mirror of ourselves, that reflection of who we are and how they saw us.
When Rob died I carried a rant inside me at the fashion industry that had hijacked black clothing and a society that had stopped the tradition of wearing black for morning. Where is my black dress that says, for all to see, “I’m not ok!! My love has died!!”??
Thank you for your words so that we might see a reflection of ourselves in them.
These words so aptly describe early grief, slogging through mud, the physical pain, exhaustion. Your writings are so accurate, soul bearing and poignant. Thank you for putting words to what I felt and continue to feel. <3
I love your words and your writing, Dana! As always!
Your words mirror so many of my own thoughts and feelings - and they make me twist and turn my own belifs.
Going from a we to a me changed everything.
At first I thought I could beat grief. I believed that if I just kept life running and said yes to everything, I would be able keep my head above the surface in the mud puddle of grief I felt as if I was thrown into.
I couldn't have been more wrong.
I don't think that grief will ever ease or that I will feel better about my husband being gone. Nor do I think everything has to have a positive outcome, a silver lining. However, I do believe that time will help me to find ways to live alongside my grief - and - as another beautiful widow friend reminded me yesterday - hold two emotions at the same time.
But it's hard work and it's all on my own shoulders. It's an ongoing process.
The sack of grief won't become lighter just by itself, but the heavy burden of carrying it will differ depending on how long treks I will choose to walk at a time.
I finally had a chance to read this, and I love it so much, Dana. It really is the perfect metaphor and the part where you described the different types of terrain you have to traverse with your weighted pack (while getting lost, falling, getting banged up) was so spot-on. I backpacked Europe for a month when I was 23, so this whole piece resonated with me so much — the pack was SO heavy at first and I was so sore from all the walking, blisters, and the weight literally bearing down on my shoulders. But in time, I barely noticed it was on my back…it really did become an extension of my body; part of me. Thank you for sharing this…I love reading words you’ve written from different points along your grief road. 💛💛💛