My way of grieving sucks- how about yours?

Guess what- I still have a blog in editing about my Grandmother and memories. I started it- felt good about it- then I was interrupted and now I don't feel like remembering. I feel like crap. Apparently when I grieve, I get depressed. I'm not naming it to claim it- I'm naming it to shit on it. Because it needs to go AWAY. I don't think it's a healthy normal way to grieve. Not this brand. There's a difference between feeling sad and feeling numbly a nonentity.

In an effort to give a vacuum of existence a space and handles... I'm going to write honestly about how I am doing. What I am doing. Here's my caveat- I don't write this to get apologies, affirmation, or anything like that. If you feel so led- fine- but I'm writing it so that by some odd chance someone out there who has the same useless method of grieving won't feel completely alone. It's about to get real here folks.

I'm feeling escapist. Visions of Florida lure my fantasies. I want to lay out in the sun, eat berries and chocolate, forget about the children and sleep for 10 hours straight every night. Oh holy Lord, yes. I want to skip winter. And rain- if it's going to rain- give me a damn thunderclap.

I'm annoyed, frustrated, and angry. At myself. I know that everyone grieves differently, everyone lives differently. I'm tired of my wrongs being the worse kind and my rights being the most painful. When I grieve, I seem to slip into the lethargic brand of depression. I stop cooking, cleaning, producing anything. I start eating and whining. My house, which was already hanging by a thread toward disaster's abyss- has fallen deep deep inside. I have no idea when I last cleaned anything in any of my bathrooms. Seriously. I haltingly and with great delay do dishes, laundry and feed my children. Often this involves dialing a delivery number. My eating habits, which were surprisingly good- are now surprisingly awful. I was back to my pre-pregnancy weight. Now I look 3 months pregnant.

I feel fat at all family functions. I know I am not overweight- but it is rough being the biggest girl in your family. Don't forget your petite sister-in-law. Even she doesn't have the decency to be normal for me. This is vain and honest. I want to be the hot one for once. Nope. I'm awkward, pale as a ghost and bumpy on the sides in a family of either athletes or "oh i just couldn't eat I was so stressed." What bullshit. I eat a bag of chips and salsa when I'm bored. You don't want to see stressed.

I am tired of having all of my negative effects be so damn negative. Why didn't I get the "clean to get things off your mind" gene? Or how about "lose your appetite" during a brief period? Even my clock is off. This has been all my life that it is off. I get my energy soar at 11 at night. I feel like dead weight between 7am-4pm. Rare is the day I jump out of bed with the sun in my eyes and head. Especially now. Besides it doesn't shine here anyways. Grey skies. Daily.

My most recent personal triumphs? They came through huge sacrifice and painful learning. I'm maturing- and I feel it like stabbing growth pains. My success comes in the form of becoming less important. It's appropriate- but I'd like to learn a lesson in accomplishment, talent, something uppy. Why dos my personal growth have to come in the form of humility? Sometimes being the "bigger man" really just makes me feel silenced and small. But to grow is to learn that some things really are not worth arguing and it is not important that you are right, but rather that you are still able to function in the relationship. Woo-freaking-hoo for being mature. It hurts- which is part of the maturity part- enduring it. It exhausts me.

Every accomplishment feels like climbing Mount Everest and every defeat feels like taking one wrong step and falling off a cliff.

There must be people out there like me. When things get tough- their very own soul rebels against the will to thrive. They retreat. They shut down. They do only what is necessary to do life. They get spurts of joy that keeps them moving toward the day when the stupor of whatever it is that has possessed their life wears off. They feel defenseless, defeated, tired. I'm sorry- but I do not want to have my soul respond this way. It is pissing me off.

People say- have grace- be gentle with yourself- give yourself time. It becomes frustrating and self-destructive when it feels like your "natural process" is about as difficult to recover from as the thing that you are processing. Surely there are healthy and unhealthy ways to grieve? When do I get to wake up from this coma? I promised myself that I would not do it this way when Grandmother died. I went through this with Memaush and while I still miss her every day- I did not need to grieve in depression to process and honor her death and life. But my soul didn't get the memo "no more destructive and time-warping depression." It's like my soul craves the dark cold corner- retreating there with the first excuse. I AM SICK OF IT.

Let's be honest- If I lost a child to some horrible disease- you wouldn't find me rising up and forming some fundraising foundation as a coping mechanism. I would be living in the in-law quarters at my parents' house, staring at the sky with a blank look on my face.

I'm tired of having everything thing about me not having a flip side. Grief does not give me sadness and memories- it gives me numbness. Turmoil does not give me triumph- it gives me strength to be trampled.

Aagh! I do not want my eyes to adjust to the darkness! I do not want to accept the lethargy! Why do I have to work so hard to find light and optimism? When I find that place- it is not a natural gift or ability. It is a fleeting vision that I have to focus and yet open-handedly grasp. If I try too hard, it falls. If I don't try- it never comes.

In the house I have an overwhelming urge to throw things away "Hoarders" style. And yet candy wrappers and junk mail lay on the table for days. Junk mail people are evil. Bruno brings in 625 lbs of dirt daily- and with the grey sky and rain- let's upgrade it to mud. He also now pees in the house occasionally, which we have finally ruled as a behavioral issue. I want to give the dog away. I want to get a job so I don't have to feel bad about not playing with the kids all the time. I can't make decisions and stick to them. I crave my family- putting them up on thrones they are sure to fall from.

I am Sarah, grieving via depression, and I am sick of myself for it.

My way of grieving sucks. How about you?

(fyi- i am not suicidal, my children are fed and my dog is taken care of. yadda yadda, etc- this is just me doing grief straight up lazy zoned-out style and being honest about it.)