Wandering

Feeling rather lost these days. My dad passed suddenly in late November of last year and was not something expected or anticipated by anyone.

I currently have a free website out in cyber-space but have no interest at present to revive it. I am not inspired to do much of anything since my dad’s passing and am at a loss as to what to do with myself or if I even need to “do” anything. I don’t like feeling like this at all. I know I am depressed, who wouldn’t be? But I also know that it is not the kind that would be considered ‘clinical.’ (Whatever that means.)

I find it very hard to understand or tolerate those who do not understand grief. There is a very strong, prevalent, seemingly unspoken agreement in place ’somewhere’ in society that says you should work through your grief quickly so that you can “get on with things.”

I’d like to ask them “what things??” What could be more important than working through your grief and loss and memories so that you can become somewhat whole once again? You will never be the same person again after the loss of a parent, especially when they have yet to reach the age of retirement. I am rather resentfully discovering it is rather like being born again, but completely lacking the joy of new life & anticipation, or the discovery of learning about the world around you and the relationship with the two most important people who brought you into the world.

I don’t like it at all. But most of all I resent the random bouts of unexpected grief that seem to pop up out of nowhere, ambushing me when I least expect it. Like when I’m cleaning my house, watching tv and a song commercial comes on or I get off the phone from having a good chat with someone and suddenly am overwhelmed with such pain and sadness that it feels as though my heart has been ripped from me – and I never even saw it coming.

I’ve been mulling over telling my dad’s story in my mind for about a week now, but I don’t think I’m ready for that. And just today I thought who cares? Nobody is going to care and I can hear the falsity of my own words, but I don’t want to listen. And I think “Why does it even matter?”

I know it is my turbulent emotional state that is dragging me through the ringer, but there are many moments on an almost daily basis where I just don’t give a damn about anything.
Signing off now. Maybe my mood will be better tomorrow.

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I went away for a bit, but wanted to add that I am not naturally inclined to share melancholic, sad, wandering thoughts. But at the same time, I have spent many years studying writing, and practicing and refining my writing skills so that now, I am very aware that some of the greatest writing ever published was from those courageous or in some cases, ‘lost’ souls who bared their hearts for the page.