When I finished my #6MonthsOfGrief Project, I slipped into a dark depression. It got so dark that I had some serious suicidal thoughts that scared me. The one-year anniversary of my husband's death was part of it, but I also realized that my Grief Project was helping me process my grief in bigger ways than I could comprehend and when I finished it, there was nowhere for that energy to go and it started to tear my soul apart.
During my #6MonthsOfGrief Project, every day the Grief Monster would wake up next to me and say, "Let's play! What are we going to make today?" and when I stopped playing with him, he got very, very angry and started breaking furniture and knocking me around and scratching me with his long claws. It hurt in a way I was unprepared for. I have to make time for him. I have to make time for my grief. So I have to keep creating around my grief, and while I cannot do an image a day, I would like to commit to putting something together once a week, that gathers up all the images and thoughts and threads I have been gathering around where my grief is, and weaving something together to share with all of you.
|My canine friend Friskie has passed on and images of her now sit on the altar with other dearly departed.
I have begun Year Two of being a Widow, and so far it is a million times harder than Year One. In that first year, I was in shock. I had a lot of help. I focused on mundane, bureaucratic tasks. I lived in the cocoon of grief. Now I am living my "life," now — even though it still doesn't feel like my own. I have a new job. I take care of myself (badly, but I do). He is really gone and I am really living that truth and it makes me want to stop living. But I know I must keep going and figure this out. He would want me to find joy again. He would want me to love again. He is rooting for me. He believes in me.
I need to keep being playful friends with the Grief Monster, or he will surely kill me. So I'm giving this a try. The artist in me doesn't like how similar this is to my last Grief Project, but I don't know what else to do and I have to do something. Perhaps it will grow and change and transform, as I do.
Thanks for being a witness. See you next week.