BROKEN ARROWS

There is grief and then there is the other side of grief you don’t show others.  It envelopes you, takes your voice, removes you from those around you.  You hear them speaking, trying to reach you and you aren’t able to answer.  It whispers lies, makes you unsure of yourself, brings guilt in buckets, bittersweet memories, the what if’s and regrets so deep. Sleeping is impossible.  Your heart pounds, your breathing shallow.

There comes a point you have to acknowledge you are in trouble.  If you stay there, you get shackled in the darkness. If you can’t break free, you succumb.  Finding a few words with the right people, lets it out a little at a time.  I am blessed with angels; Earth and Heavenly ones. You know who you are. Thank you for holding me up.

I feel alone, (I know I am not),worn out and betrayed in a strange way.  All of my emotions are exaggerated and amplified. I am afraid to open my mouth.  I want to yell, “Why? Why, my son?” until my throat is bloody from screaming.  I want to beat my hands against the wall and break every bone, so I can point to my fingers and say “this is what hurts!” Red, hot anger, complete rage, consumes me in different parts of the day.

The last few months I have been trying to prove to those around me, that I’m still me.  I’m tired of feeling like a shadow of the bubbly girl I once was. I didn’t realize I had been, until this week.  As I fell further down the rabbit hole of grief it became apparent; I have been running, instead of facing this pain.

 I was cocooned in a safe place.  Denial.  He will walk in the door any minute and then mine and Allie’s birthdays.  They came and he never walked in the door.

Being wrapped in that safe place, surrounded by heavenly angels holding you, absorbing the pain, until you are strong enough, once again to feel, is such a gift. The extra strength flows and you know once again, you can stand.  Then it slowly recedes and you know it’s your turn to carry it, feel it, somehow grow in spite of it, as you face the worse nightmare of your life.  He’s not coming home. 

C.S. Lewis said this about grief.  “I think I am beginning to understand why grief feels like suspense. It comes from the frustration of so many impulses that have been habitual. Thought after thought, feeling after feeling. Had (Parker) for their object. Now the target is gone. I keep on through habit, fitting the arrow to the string; then I remember and have to lay down the bow. So many roads lead to (Parker). I set out on one of them. But now there’s an impassable frontier post across it. So many roads once, now so many cul-de-sacs.”

The arrow breaks with” what ifs.” I picture him counseling others. He would share his story and tell them how he beat this; his words would be powerful and ring true. His leadership abilities eventually helping him to lead strong. He was loved by many and missed by many more.

This is where I want my voice to matter.   I’m working so hard to find my “aim” again. Speaking the truth is necessary and incredibly draining. If speaking helps one family, one person to make a change, save one life, change the heart of an addict, it will be worth every ounce of emotional and physical energy it takes. 

Thank you for my angels, God.  I can’t do this alone.

#PJKALLDAY

#DONTSTOPBELIEVING

#ADDICTIONAWARENESS