Today grief is a giant python, circling my neck. Some people I know are afraid of strong emotion so they avoid feelings. I don’t seem to have that ability; today my heart is just a messy, bewildering puddle of loss.
This is one stormy bitch of an ocean to navigate, as most Americans freak out at expressions of pain and sadness. “Don’t get stuck there,” some advise. Others helpfully share admonishments to not “feed the energy” of anguish or rage. Which makes me feel even more alone with my very intense, bright-red feelings. I feel branded. A scarlet letter, tattooed on my neck. Stay away, the letter warns. She’s very emotional these days. She might be overwrought. Out of control. Angry and bitter.
I don’t fear for my sanity (well, sometimes I do, but I’ve been here before). I know that fully embracing the losses of one dead sister from cancer and another sister who committed suicide and my only brother dying from aggressive brain cancer inside of two years is where I am and need to be; feeling every last damn molecule of shock and sorrow. While I hose off the spatters of family dysfunction that regularly spray around the room and forgive me for my metaphor soup.
“I resist nothing” is today’s mantra. That’s the best path. When my mom died my brother’s wife admonished, “rub it in your hair” — fully experience all the grief and sadness. Good advice. Today my gray locks are filthy with ashes. Unattractive but very, very real.
7″ x 7″ ink, watercolor, red wine, pastel on paper = $65