Cry When You Need To. Life Is Complicated.

Two things, cry when you need to, and life is complicated.

I've been pondering at how easily I weep. Granted, I've always been a weepy woman, but I've moved into the skill level extreme. Most of you won't see it, but some of you have had the experience of seeing the well spring unload. As I've said mostly I weep in the privacy of the truck. That's okay, my truck is where I am usually in between. In between is okay. In between is temporary. In between can be safe. In between just is.

I know the first year after Gordon's death I was mostly numb. Numbness happens when a loss is too shocking to absorb. His choice is still impossible to fathom. Not to say I didn't cry when I was numb. I think I cried but didn't feel. Now I feel and cry. Yesterday I cried while watching a young Mom comfort her infant. I cried because I miss the days when life was so simple, so uncomplicated. Of course, her life may not have a simple thing in it, I don't know. But I remember when life was just easy, or at least I believed so. I trusted it to just be good. It's hard to trust when you know life can be tragic and complicated. And, it's important to trust when you know life can be tragic and complicated. Like I said...it's complicated.

The other night with friends I felt completely okay just as I was, and then within minutes felt completely lacking just as I was. Such a fine line of personal comfort. I emotionally checked out of the conversations and felt like an outsider. And, that is my baggage to carry, to sort out, to process. So here I am processing away. 

This is what I've discovered. I don't fit into the places I fit before. Extreme losses will do that to you. That alone is worth weeping over. The nature of my loss sometimes makes people uncomfortable with me, and makes me uncomfortable with them. It sometimes even makes me uncomfortable with me. Not a path I chose, but one I must find a way to navigate. It's a painful thing this not fitting in. It's painful how slowly that realization comes to you. With the pain eventually comes grace and growth, but ever so slowly. I struggle with the slowly part. I'd like that growth now please (if not sooner), with a side of fries and a milk shake. Hey, a girl can dream, right?

So this is where I find myself as a survivor of suicide loss. Keeping the faith and trusting in the process even when it's uncomfortable. Sorting out what works and doesn't work like it used to. Crying when I need to. This is growth, this is grace, this is progress.  And there you have it.