There’s not always a bright side


When I simply can’t find a bright side I write.  Today I don’t even want to find a bright side to anything.   Honestly for the past 3 years since I first dropped into the twisty space of Cuckoo Luckoo land with Russell’s quick illness and death I’ve sought out the bright side over and over and over again, even in the darkest places of my journey.  Some days, like today, I just don’t fricking want to look for bright spots.  Because some days when you are grieving the loss of one you love you just want to be able to say “It sucks!” and not feel like you have to quickly follow that up with something positive and forward moving.

I dedicated myself 3 years ago to living my journey out loud in very public ways.  I did it for my healing and also to be a voice for others who are grieving that find it harder to speak out loud their pain.   Well as I’ve spent time over the past few weeks reading through old journals, blog posts and other musings one of the things I’ve realized is that in almost everything I write I end with some positive upswing no matter how dark the emotions that prompted the writing.  It’s a compulsion on my part to always seek the light in the darkness; to always find the learning opportunity; to always find the glimmer of hope.  While I like that about myself and want that to continue to be something that I do, I am recognizing I feel resentful towards myself that I just don’t say enough “Large parts of this just SUCK! No ifs, ands, buts or rosy endings – IT SUCKS!”

For my own health and my own sanity, I need to come to an understanding that it is okay to not be okay sometimes.   My kids need to hear this from me and know they have every right to not feel okay or try to find something positive in every single moment.   We need to all give ourselves permission to say some days just suck!

Today I’m in major flashback mode to that crazy ass day Russell entered the hospital.  That day that has no answers as to what the heck put him into the hospital in the first place.  The day that my world forever changed.  The day that my children’s lives forever changed.  The day that just sucks!

With every flashback I try to see if there is something I missed back then.   I try to see if maybe some hidden piece of the puzzle could finally be found.  I try to remember if all the tests were run. I try to figure it all out but I know that I really can’t.  And then I try to tell my brain to shut up and stop remembering.

All I want to do today is wrap all 3 of my children up in some magical cocoon until I can find the way to go back in time and make it all right again.  And if I can’t go back in time with them then I want to be able to go forward in time to that illusive, maybe someday time when the memories won’t still wrap around us like powerful vines dragging us into the quicksand of disbelief and grief. Since I can’t do either of these things I am in this place of pissiness, regret, conflicted memories, and powerlessness to make anything better for them or for me.  We are trapped on days like today, and this next week leading to his death anniversary, in the twisty place of Cuckoo Luckoo Land where nothing is as it “should be” and everything is backwards, upside down and inside out.  BLECH!

So for once I am going to end my writing before I slip into that “find the positive, end on a good note” place I always want to go to.  Because today JUST SUCKS!  And that is enough to say!

2 thoughts on “There’s not always a bright side

  • I acknowledge and honor your pain. I believe one of the very hardest things we have to do in life is sit with the unanswered tragic mysteries. You have been beyond brave and inspirational. I wish I was close by to hug you and make you a cup of tea. You are not alone even though you are deeply lonely today. You will be a constant in my prayers. Thank you for this very real and very grave sharing

    • Thank you. It just hit me like a ton of bricks this morning I’m tired of being positive and trying to grow. I just want to wail and cry for once without needing to justify with it some great learning I’ve gained. Your response and the heartfelt compassion behind it means a great deal to me.

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