To accept that you are grieving is one of the most difficult things, we are saddened, we are irritated, we are depressed, we become sick in the mind and the body - all to create a wall between ourselves and the actual impact of deep loss and pain.
Doctors have described and detailed different stages of bereavement and grief a person normally goes through in case of a life altering trauma like death of a spouse, divorce, moving house etc. And the first stage always comes down to somewhere close to denial, our primal instincts, our innate sense for preservation of life, our inner cardinal points make us resistant to pain and shock the mind and the body into not believing that the tragedy has actually befallen. I am a great proponent of this stage, the more time you can spend in denial the better it is for you can postpone the pain for just another day or two and be in a sususpened and borrowed state of an uncomfortable comfort.
I can already hear the 'tsks' and moving of heads from left to right of the very same doctors at this rather unhealthy habit of mine of piling every little disappointment and pain and loss. See, the thing is, I can't help being anything but the low life vermin that I am, I am ruthlessly callous and fastidiously selfish, nothing, absolutely nothing has now come to matter to ruffle my feathers, for before it does so, I have already transported myself to a fantastical Eldorado of 'where everything is right'.
But, eventually, grief has a tacit way of catching up with you and the later it does, or the longer you are able to play hide and seek with it, it catches you with all the more vigour and passion and literally pins you down by driving a sword through your heart and soul. I have tried to hide from my own feelings of sorrow, of loss, of pain, of sheer desperation yearning for what was and isn't any more, of a life lost somewhere beyond the reaches of my person.
Since I've been back from the pilgrimage, a certain calm has descended over me, a kind of pause has crept into my life, and it seems as though I am not running, or running away from all what I have tried to hide from all these past years, the pain has finally caught up with me or I have surrendered completely to what is, and have somehow stopped letting it bloom in my soul, yes, bloom. For pain and grief have a time period in which they ripen and reach maturity and are in full swing if you don't hamper their life cycle and then after they have lived in the sun for sometime they disappear on their own.
I am feeling sad. Sad at being left alone, abandoned at the side of a dark empty road in the middle of nowhere in the pitch dark of night. I am feeling at a loss for a life, for an identity, for a place to define myself and put myself in. I am feeling lonely for no other can understand the anguish of being cast aside and now made to witness a life being lived happily by the very people who were instrumental in breaking up yours.
I am tired. Both, mentally and physically, but for once I am not scared.
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