I'm Not Paralyzed, Maybe Just Stuck





I’m not paralyzed, stuck maybe, but not without the use of my limbs, mind, emotions, or feelings.  It’s true that I move more slowly than before, more cautiously, but that's because I fear a catastrophe may swoop down and I'll be caught off guard or unaware.  Dare I admit that I’m scared of just  about anything or probably the majority of things?  I’m not paralyzed; I just don’t know who or what I'm dealing with. Real or imagined? It's like I'm caught up in a long playing version of  Marvin Gaye's, "What's going on?" 

Maybe the fault lies with the expectations others have of me.  Am I expected to have "snapped back" or gotten myself together by now? How long is too long? Am I to be consumed by the impatience of people who can't handle the discomfort of grief?  Who want me to be like that clown, known  for laughing on the outside but wailing on the inside? Because others wear the mask, should I put a  "rush" on my Amazon order for one?


I need a plan.  Do I attend to parts of my life and if so, which ones? Is my next step to prioritize things, get a calendar and some colored markers; establish a hierarchy and tire myself out with busy intent until the next time I have a spurt of energy?  I'm noticing that putting things off is becoming more and more appealing.  Manana. Manana.  Yet a tape runs continuously, giving out advice that  resounds in my head , don't put off until tomorrow what can be done today? How do I cut it off? My "Things to Do" list keeps growing.. Why? What's the purpose?  

 My favorite song seems now to be, "What's it all about Alfie?" What's it all about, Alfie? Is it just for the moment we live? Or is it that we only live for a moment? Just about everything has become a distraction.This whole paralysis-analysis thing certainly feels like it.  Or is it because I'm confused about what constitutes the Movement of grief? I used to think grief flowed, or at least rolled, like the hands on a wall clock.  But when my feelings and emotions started falling in on each other, I had to realize that wasn't it. Things didn't tick-tock in a nice controllable sequence. (Or maybe I was about to lose my mind). 

  So I stopped thinking in terms of phases  and stages and embraced the idea of movements because each aspect of how I was feeling was independent of another, until somehow they'd become entangled.  Cause grief ain't orderly, logical, or methodical.  Grief just is. In fact, grief is acrobatic, jumping back and forth between feelings or actually occurring simultaneously. What a roller coaster! No wonder I have such difficulty determining what's going on.  Right, Marvin?

Comments

  1. UnknownAugust 22, 2018 at 4:23 AM

    So true. You sometimes move forward then sometimes backward. Triggers are always lurking around the corner.

    ReplyDelete

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