My blog has been wasting away since my mom died three months ago. It has been on my mind constantly in the sense that I feel like I should write but then can't. I don't know what to say in my writing. And then, when I feel like I have something to say, I can't find the right words.
The loss of my writing muse has been a surprise. Writing through my mother's illness and death was easy. My blog was an outlet for me to place all the emotions and events that I was dealing with - somehow making them more real. And, at the same time, allowing me to work through this horrible reality by finding a gem hidden in the dark mess that was me.
I wanted to blog about the best dog on the planet, Brittany, who died a few weeks before my mom. But I didn't. And still can't.
Today I took my laptop to the local coffee shop. I was meeting a dear friend for lunch and then I thought I might stay and attempt some writing. It was hard to get started, but I did. In fact, I wrote a piece that I like so much I will shop it around to magazines.
I found that getting out of the familiar helps me with my grief. Grief that I can't seem to integrate into my life but know I need to. I'm very guarded with sadness. I always feel that I'm needed by others (like my dad) and that if I start grieving, I won't be able to be there for those who are in worse shape than me.
There were never any expectations placed on me to be "the strong one" but I always felt up to the task. And although that task has been taking a huge toll on my own sense of happiness, I feel like I have to stay in a role that took 52 years to perfect. Why? I don't know. I guess because my mom would want me to. Or maybe because it's a job that needs to be filled and I've got the best resume.
Whatever the reason, I'm hoping that getting back to writing helps me work through the grief. Even though the subject I need to write about is something I always dreaded.
