drive the car in the rain.
the best chance for a shower is if i take a yoga class.
hygiene has taken on a new, changed standard in grief.
moving my family forward with the calendar and clock.
the wallpaper of the world peels.
My husband is turning 50 next month. I did not want to throw a party, but my mom encouraged me. Told me it was important to celebrate and mark his 50th.
So I'm planning it. Striving to be a good wife and all. Trying to put on a good face and create a memorable event for my partner.
talking about it with a friend:
friend: "I was glad to get the invitation to David's party and see that you're celebrating life again."
me: "I want people to come to David's birthday party, and I want them to dance and have fun, and not be completely sad."
friend: "Quit projecting. No one else is going to be sad. Everyone else is over it."
me: silently scratching the name of this friend off of my ever-shrinking friend list. suuuch a bitch!
i feel like my body moves forward in time, but moves through the grief, sometimes, by sobs. sometimes i sob so hard i can't breathe. my lungs exhale completely and my diaphragm spasms and my whole body just shakes for a long time.
the only other time in my life that i remember sobbing like this was when i was very little, and it was frightening when i would cry so hard i couldn't inhale or breathe. i sob like that now, but i'm not afraid.
how does your body grieve? what do you notice about your body and grief?