Grief Doesn’t Play by the Rules

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As you put distance between your current self and a traumatic experience, things shift.

Some days, it feels like things are getting better.

In some ways, it feels like it’s worse instead.

Grief, especially grief over the loss of a loved one through a major trauma — such as murder, suicide, or a disappearance that remains unsolved — doesn’t ever play by the rules.

It took me a while to fully embrace the fact that the reason for that is there are no rules when it comes to grief.

Whatever you are feeling is normal.

Your loss leaving you feeling like a different person is normal.

You are a different person than you were before the traumatic event/loss occurred. You process things differently.

The world is different. At least, your world is.

For the longest time after we lost my brother to suicide (this August will be two years), I wanted nothing more than to feel like myself.

I am finally beginning to wrap my head around the fact that it is never going to happen.

A new me was born the day my brother took his own life.

She needs more patience than I feel capable of a lot of the time.

She isn’t as steady as I need and want her to be.

But she is me.

In the bare bones, down deep, she is me, but she will never be the same as the old me. It’s impossible to achieve becoming just like the old me, and it’s unfair to expect that of myself.

In order to heal and move forward from something that breaks everything about your old self, you have to embrace the new you who is left in the wake of the trauma.

I spent a long time resenting . . . myself, for not being able to slip back into who I have always been.

But I know I need to stop doing that. I need to make space for the me who exists now, and I need to extend grace to myself, even though it doesn’t come as easily to me as doing the same for other people.

Today has been a bad day. I have cried over ridiculous things. On repeat.

Things that have nothing to do with my brother reminded me of him.

That he was dead.

That he took his own life.

Today was a day that felt like he left me on purpose. It took a lot to talk my way back to remembering that it wasn’t about me.

That he loved me, and all of his family, and had no intention of leaving any of us.

The only thing he needed to get away from was the pain that he couldn’t make stop.

Saying I wish he had asked for our help is redundant.

And pointless. Because he didn’t. And it’s too late now, so dwelling on what might have happened if he had asked us to help him is a waste of brain space and emotional energy, both of which are in short supply these days.

I get so tired of crying.

Of wishing.

Of feeling helpless.

To close, I will leave you with a piece of my brother, one of the only things we still have of him, the words he penned throughout the years.

If you are struggling to find meaning in life. If you are feeling overwhelmed by your emotions and pain. If past memories you want to forget plague you and you feel like you can’t cope, please reach out for help.

Talk to a loved one. I promise you that the people who love you will want to help. They do not want you to suffer, nor would they want you to end your suffering in a way that is brutally permanent.

If you don’t have anyone close to you, there are resources for you to consider.

In the US — Call the 988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline at 988 or IMAlive at 1–800–784–2433.

In the UK and Ireland — Call Samaritans UK at 116 123

In Australia — Call Lifeline Australia at 13 11 14

In other countries — Visit IASP or Suicide.org to find a helpline in your country.

Peace and love, y’all. ❤

© Melissa Gray, All Rights Reserved

This post was previously published on medium.com.

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