Why Do I Do This to Myself?

Vulnerability has never been my strongest suite and I’m not ashamed to admit that. Because while I may seem like an open book online, that couldn’t be further from the truth in person. I have, from the beginning, had a difficult time falling apart in they eyes other people. I would hide the tears as best as I could, I would make jokes to disguise the pain that was eating me alive and keeping me from feeling, well, anything.

One thing I never do is tell people about my father’s passing unless I have to. It isn’t something that I necessarily feel comfortable doing, even after all these years. People think those on the receiving end are the only ones who revert to awkwardness? That’s not really the case.

And I speak from experience.

People look at you differently, like your life must be in complete and utter shambles because you lost someone. They wonder how you’re still standing and moving forward because they, themselves, they can’t imagine. Sometimes, they say they’re sorry and sometimes they say nothing at all. I don’t know which one is worse.

I have had a few instances where I have brought up my father’s death, only after careful consideration because I have a heart to protect, and it gets completely ignored. Brushed aside. But because I’m me, I just let it go. Though it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

When that happens, it makes me never want to share that piece of myself with someone who doesn’t know. It also makes me angry with myself for letting my walls down just for nothing to come out of it.

Now, I understand people don’t always know how to react or what to say, but by doing or saying not a single thing at all, it as if you weren’t listening or like you don’t care.

No matter what someone says, good or bad, acknowledge it. Please. There is nothing that makes me feel smaller than when I have the courage to tell people about the worst thing I’ve been through and them acting like it’s whatever. Believe me, you take two seconds to read anything I’ve written and you’ll quickly figure out grief is the furthest thing from.

I bring this up because I told my professor that I couldn’t take my Monday exam because of the Jewish Holiday. I explained to her how it is a day to celebrate those we have lost and I even went so far as to tell her about dad. Instead of taking the time to say anything in regards to that, she said nothing at all. Didn’t express a single sorrow.

For lack of better words, it pissed me off. How is it that your student tells you something personal and you don’t recognize that somehow? I told my science teacher last year later on and you wanna know how he responded? He told me my dad would be proud of the person I’ve become.

We have got to stop treating grief and loss like it bares no weight. My pain nearly killed me. In fact, some days I have no idea how I managed to find the strength within to survive because a lot of times I didn’t know if I wanted to anymore.

Grief is one of those things that takes everything and many times leaves you with nothing to show for it. It’s a silent little weasel that crawls beside you at night and takes habitant in your bed without your permission only to make it impossible to for you to breathe in the morning.

We don’t have to know the right words to say to still say something. Ignoring it is not the right answer. Every time you bring up your loss or your trauma or anything that has ever scarred you, you are allowing yourself to be vulnerable. You are showing the world that there is still a part of you that is okay enough to peel the mask away just a little bit.

Luckily, for me, I don’t harbor much resentment, but for those who do, I get it. But I ask that you think about your happiness first and if punishing someone for something is going to take that away, is it really worth it?

Just a penny for your thoughts.

The irony of grief is that the person you need to talk to about how you feel is the person who is no longer there.

Anonymous

Truth is everybody is going to hurt you: you just gotta find the ones worth suffering for.

Bob Marley

You own everything that has happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.

Anne Lamott