Grief

Grief sucks. 

I always knew that and expected it. People who have gone through it before tried to help me prepare for it.  But living it is a whole other ball game.

September 30 my Dad died. I watched it happen. It was an out of body experience that I relive every time I close my eyes. I’m not going into detail because I wouldn’t be able to do him any justice by sharing the worst moment of everyone’s life. And I don’t have the mental capacity to share all of the amazing things about him.

Just know that if I ever get married, my husband has some crazy big shoes to fill. Because James Muller was one hell of a man.

Grief. It’s like that gas bubble that sits in the middle of your chest. You feel it every time you take a sip of your drink, or swallow a bite of food. You feel it in that moment when your crazy day stops and you can take a breath, or when your mind starts to wander during your commute to/from work.

It. Doesn’t. Go. Away.

I’m stuck between two things. 1) The thought that I have to cry all day to mourn his passing and pay respect to him the way he deserves and 2) The thought that he’d HATE that and want me to carry on with my day and my life, focusing on work and getting my life back together.

I’m a Type-A personality. I like things organized, planned out, and crave routine. I like stability.

In 2 months I’ve had my routine upturned twice, my heart broken twice, and have not gotten the chance to grieve either life experience OR create a new routine.

And it’s messing with me.

A friend of mine the other day said to focus on the things that make me happy. So, my Type A personality planned out the next 2 months of my life so I can, in a way, make appointments for the things I enjoy.

My workouts are planned out by the time I’m going to do them. My food is planned out by the hour that I’ll eat it. And I’m in the process of working out some blog posts to get back to sharing things with you guys.

Some people find it odd that I put things out there so publicly. But, it’s therapeutic. Even this post. For days I’ve had it in my head – what I wanted so hare. And I was avoiding sitting down and hitting the keys. But once those fingers start moving, free therapy starts flowing.

I can’t promise the next 2 months will be filled with rainbows and butterflies, but I can promise that big change is going to happen for me. I’m both excited and scared for it, but the time has come to say goodbye and I’ve got to get started on my next chapter.

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If you’re still here, thanks for reading. And thank you in advance for keeping me and my family in your prayers as we trudge through this stage of grief.