Lessons in dealing with the bitch that is grief

I’m still new in this process.

It was only 3.5 months ago that he was taken from me. From us. 15 weeks. 107 days. 2,565 hours.

Even though I am still new and fresh in this, I have learned a lot in the last 3.5 months. I have learned that it is okay to not be okay. I have learned that it is okay to cry.

I have learned that it is so fucking hard to deal with your own grief while also helping a child through their own. I have learned that it is okay to let that child see you vulnerable. It is okay to let that child see you cry. It is okay to let that child see you smile sometimes too.

I have learned that there is nothing wrong with being depressed or needing things like antidepressants or therapy.

I have learned that it is okay to still break down crying sometimes.

I have learned that it is okay to still be angry because fuck this life, fuck what happened, fuck the asshole who turned in front of my son, fuck grief, fuck PTSD, fuck depression, fuck anxiety, fuck insomnia, fuck this pain, fuck not having my son with me anymore.

I have learned that it is important to support those in pain and how horrible it is to be on the side who doesn’t get that support. I have learned that your blood family doesn’t always stand by you in your grief and sometimes the most support comes from your chosen family. Sometimes that even comes from people you used to hate or people who once hurt you horribly.

I have learned that it can sometimes be unexpected methods of processing that prove to be helpful…such as spewing all of my spastic thoughts on this blog. I have learned that even animals grieve the ones they loved. I have learned that it is okay to leave purple lights outside of my house for as long as I want.

I have learned that it is okay to not be ready to clean his room or empty his items from the medicine cabinet. I have learned that it is okay to still be wearing his shirts every day.

I have learned that I don’t think a day will go by that I won’t miss my baby. I hope I can make him proud of me. I hope I can do my part to make sure his memory lives on for as long as I do.