Easier

They say that with grief you are always taking two steps forward and one step back.  It is one of the hardest parts about this second year for me.  I wish I could find myself at a new level and know that I would be able to count on staying there...but I can't.  Just when I start to feel comfortable in a new place, it all comes crashing back down on me.

I am having a hard week.  I seem to have those immediately following fun trips or good times.  The "hangover" from fun seems to include lots of questioning, heartache, longing and self pity.  Just like with alcohol, I have to start thinking about whether the hangover is really worth the good time.  I almost do better just being locked away, on my own, in my own house, with no adventures.  I can see why people become hermits.  It's just easier to dwell in what I know and can count on.

My head still hurts.  It's pounding, in fact.  I am scouring the internet for stories of hope and inspiration and coming up with the same old stuff.  I am halfway through about ten books that I started, hoping that they could help fix me.  I can't get through them.  They are all the same.  There is no recovery for what's happened to my family.

Countless bereaved parents have told me that time makes it easier....and it is true.  What I guess isn't so clear is that "easier" is still really effing hard.  It is SO hard.  I just want to have a simple life again.  But, I miss my son too much.  I just miss him so so so much.  I have mini surprise attacks of grief throughout the day.  Sitting at my desk and working one minute, quietly sobbing in the bathroom the next.  And, yet, this is "easier" than what it once was.  "Easier" is by no means "Easy" and it is killing me.