Confessions

February 24, 2017 - 19:35

I can't decide if I want to die, get blitzed out drunk, or just punch the shit out of something.
The years have gone by since I've lost my brother and I'm not sure why, but Year Five is smacking me something fierce. Today's been five years since I stood up in front of a crowd of several hundred people and shared Nathaniel's story.
Grief sucks.
Why the fuck now?
When I said during the first few months that I'd "never recover" I felt like I was being dramatic and cliche. For fucks sake, why did I have to be correct?
If I didn't have kids, I'd intentionally overdose. Maybe the thing that is bothering me the most is that by Year Five I'm too embarrassed to admit on social media that I'm still just radically overwhelmed by his death. Like I feel as though the social expectation is that I be over it by now and I am so NOT over it that I feel embarrassed. I shouldn't embarrassed by grief. I know this intellectually but reject it emotionally. Because I'm not "over it" it means I'm weak. If Nathaniel hadn't died part of me wouldn't have died. I am less of a person because he is not here. This isn't just being sad that a person is gone. It's being sad because part of me is gone. That side of me that naively believed I could ever be good for someone else disappeared. I really really shouldn't be working on the degree that I've been focusing on. Why the fuck did I ever think I'd be able to recover from losing Nathaniel by helping others live? It's not even the same thing. Because he's gone for ever, no matter how much I wish it wasn't true.

Confessions - February 24, 2017

The speed bumps of grief... - February 24, 2017

I'm going to share my backpack... - February 15, 2017

I'm free! - July 11, 2015

thequestionofbreakup - June 12, 2008

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