Wednesday, February 26, 2014

Grief Makes You Weird

As much as I want to feel like my normal self, I don't.  My dad died and I'm sad about it.  February has been a month full of painful anniversaries: Dad's birthday, Mom's death and their wedding. 

Grief is hard work.
Grief makes you weird. 
Grief makes you fat. 
Grief makes you smile to hide the fact that you don't care about anything. 
Grief makes you not care that you don't care. 

One day in the future, I will care again.  One day, I'll be able to walk on the treadmill for more than 10 minutes at a time and stay up at night later than 8:30.  I'll be able to look at myself in the mirror and think, 'maybe you're not that hideous, after all.'  I will stop forgetting my name badge in the morning and having to turn around and get it, making me late for a conference call that I don't care about.

Some days, I think I'm fine until realizing I've spent the whole day feeling anxious.  I'm afraid of losing someone else that I love or of dropping dead myself because, hey, I read the obituaries and lots of 54-year old women are dropping dead.  Or getting fired because everyone figures out that I can't remember my name badge.  Then they feel sorry for me just like I feel sorry for myself. 

And I miss Dad so very much. 

Perfume is my relief.  I pile it on constantly, layering one on top of the other until I get it right.  Or until I stop piling.  For the first time, I have a stash of decants and samples at work, and sometimes - like today - I remember it when I am exhausted and just cannot fake it for another minute.  As soon as the aroma meets my nose, I can relax, give my sadness a rest and catch a whiff of the good life that I know is coming.  That, I care about.

image from


  1. Just wanted to send you my sympathy - I have no wise words to offer but I do sympathise.

    Keep on keeping on as best you can, and look after yourself.

    Anna in Edinburgh

    1. Anna, you are always so kind and gentle. Thank you for your comment - I will keep on keeping on until things look a little brighter, which I know they eventually will.

  2. So well is comforting to know that I am not alone, even though being alone is all I seem to be really good at right now. Sister love coming at you...

    1. Mermaid, you are not alone and neither am I, which gives me great comfort. Looking forward to seeing you. Sister love coming back...

  3. What you said! I'm just coming up on the one year anniversary of my husband passing away. I can't even post on blogs. What do you say? I'm only 50 and the world keeps spinning, but my guts are on the floor. And I'm lucky with a great family.......but. Trying to find my new normal. This year would have been #33. And like you I'm terrified that I will lose someone else. And I've gained 15 lbs. But I joined a gym and am going to try to dig out of my rut. Spring is coming and getting outside will be nice! What I'd really like is to lay on a tropical beach with a good book, a drink and just chill out. So I hit up Yves Rocher and bought all their Monoi perfume and body oils and such. Maybe if I get brave I will hop a plane and find spot. If you know a good place that is not to pricey let me know. Time to pull up my big girl panties and start the rest of my life. Thanks for your blog! I have been just a lurker for some time. Good luck getting over your grief. If it can be gotten over. :) Sylvia

  4. Dear Sylvia, thank you for your comment. I'm so sorry to hear of your husband's passing and can only imagine the pain you have gone through. I don't know if we ever 'get over' grief, either, but I do know there's no shortcut - we just have to wade through it. Glad you are ready to start the rest of your life - know that I'm sending good energy your way. Thanks again for visiting...I'll look forward to seeing you again.

  5. A little reply to include a warm virtual hug. xox

    1. Thanks, Carol - your virtual hugs are always welcome.



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