I can feel a shift.
It’s subtle, yet somehow bold.
I sound like I’m describing the flavor of a nice steak.
No no. Sadness. I can feel a shift in my sadness. It’s still there, but… transitioning.
Talking to my therapist late this past week, I began forming an image in my mind of my sadness. At first it was a big cloud of grey blanketing everything around me, including me, my mind, and my heart. But through the our conversation that day, it shrank down. I imagined it as a solid, heavy spherical monster. Not a loud, ugly, scary one. Just one that’s always there. Sitting on my desk next to me, watching and waiting until my focus moves away from my work back to him (it’s a he–not sure how or why, but it is). My therapist suggested that maybe as long as he was there, I should offer him a cup of tea, and maybe a blanket. I mean, as long as he’s going to be there.
I’ve been expressing myself through art since the beginning of the year, and I felt the urge to get the image in my head on paper. I am not an artist, so spare me the critique–but he turned out very much like I saw him in my head:
Somehow, all of this has helped.
Instead of realizing throughout the week that I miss KT and then burying the thought (like I’ve apparently been doing), I’ve had those realizations followed by the thought of, “My best friend is dead.” I know that sounds, perhaps, like a negative step, but it’s not. Because that thought doesn’t bring despair. It brings a sense of growing peace in simply hearing the thought, acknowledging it, and letting it go.
It’s the difference between being overwhelmed by the cloud of fog all the time and glancing over, seeing my sadness sipping his tea, taking a deep breath, and diving back into my life.
I’ve always been comforted, somehow, by the notion that “the only way out is through” (a sure twisting of someone’s very famous words). I’ve been under the impression that I’m moving through grief, whatever the hell that means. But really, I’ve been stuck.
There’s something about the ability to state the very clear truth, accept it as reality, and not become attached to the idea (or feel the need to avoid it) that brings clarity and the ability to continue this journey. I don’t know what’s next, but I know I’m moving.
My sadness prefers Tazo tea–Passion, to be specific. Just in case anyone wants to send him a cup to keep him content.