guilt...

Grief. An incredibly strong statement with so many connotations attached to such a relentless word. It weighs a lot…it can sit on you like a ton of bricks…it can carry you through your time here on earth when you do not know what else to feel…it can push you down and hold you there…it can feel as if it is grabbing your heart and ripping it right out of your chest…it can come unexpectedly and make you feel so small…it can make you feel alone even when there are so many around you who love and care for you…it can be all you think about and even worse, all you dream about…it can break you down on your better days…it is grief. The past year and a half I have been feeling these things periodically and they were pretty much a part of my week to week, not day to day so much anymore. There were a lot more good days than bad but there would randomly be a reminder of loss and that word again…grief. As I would manage this grief, I would keep myself distracted and realized I was making great progress. I was proud of myself…proud of how far I had come along in a “short” amount of time. I did not do it on my own, obviously, but again, proud of where I stood and how the grief was starting to spread itself out and not pile up at my feet.

Then…it hit me. Guilt. Guilt began to eat at my insides. I did not know where it came from…but there it stood…toe to toe with the more confident Cat. It looked me right in the eyes and made itself right at home in my heart. Through counseling, I knew I had the tools to tackle such new feelings, so I tried to get a hold of it. Unfortunately, it was not moving and has become something I struggle with daily now. I feel guilty for laughing as much as I do, for trying to move on, for trying to find genuine happiness and for possibly even finding love again. That guilt has been the hardest thing to deal with lately. The guilt has sent me a few steps back that I was not expecting to take. I know when you lose someone, even years later, there will be times where you will struggle with finding your way…but it just becomes easier to manage…I get that, but this emotion has made a new home. The crazy part is…after the year anniversary of John’s passing…I felt alive again. It was like a switch was turned on from within. I would smile and it would feel good. It would feel really good. Then, I slowly felt myself regressing…and all in complete denial. I would take days that I would feel low, tuck them away and ignore it rather than sitting in it like I had learned to do in the past to get through these moments. Soon enough, it all came to a head and here I am. It all built up and came crashing down around me again. I miss John today just as much as I did when he took his final breath in my arms…and it hurts. Wash, rinse and repeat…is this how it will be forever? I would like, ideally, to continue to move forward, but instead…I tend to just stop. I evaluate every single thing that is around me before I will take another step…take another breath. So for right now…I feel as if I cannot breathe and I am standing completely still. What I can say…is that at least I am standing. It feels good to know that I am standing rather than crawling like I was over a year ago.

There have been so many who have been a part of my journey, both past and present, of which I am thankful for. I know I am not very good at this, so I appreciate those who have been subjected to my stumbling. Lately, I have been stumbling quite a bit and I am sorry…I am so sorry. I will continue to remind myself to be patient with my heart and to give myself grace. I hope that one day I can take my own advice.