"Well, everyone can master a grief but he that has it." ~William Shakespeare
Week twenty-one (November 13-19)
I wanted to share a glass of wine and savor a moment without withdrawing from the world. Empty from disguising the pain and masking the emotions I did not understand, I rustled with the notion that I had never really reconciled the grief in my heart. The weight of loss confined beneath a smile, while clueless on how to portray these overwhelming emotions.
Digging into life blindly, void of the wisdom necessary to expose the anguish as grief clung to me, bulky and cumbersome, a safeguard from displaying my soul, one I had masked for so long by building a routine of seclusion with sadness and avoiding social gatherings where my grief could be uncovered.
But then I discovered laughter and alcohol, a lethal combination if the dose was just right. Humor could let me be seen in a way that grief had not. Nobody wanted the sad quiet person, and like a chameleon, I changed to accommodate the discomfort in those around me, revealing none of the sadness that had gripped me just hours earlier.
Maybe that was the only way for me to work through grief? It could be that disguise was my release, a permission to have fun without the tether of guilt. Those nights I could go out and be somebody else, not the grieving mother or sibling, or daughter, but just a person trying to discover a soft place to land, even if temporary, to relieve the heartache that scarred her.
Today I am grateful for that negotiator who showed up and let me be seen. Allowing me to emerge from beneath the mask and reveal the abundance of tears behind the laughter, the tears that provided a healing balm, a piece of my journey which revealed my authenticity, where my truth is told and courage begins.
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