Still feeling a grief induced hangover today. I am aware of how much disturbance lies beneath the surface for me most days, but I do my best to ignore it so that I can go about my day. The problem with ignoring it is that small, inconsequential things can disrupt my fragile illusion of peace. It's a catch-22. I feel like I have to choose between letting it out and being a reliable employee. Plus, I still can't seem to grieve until the emotion has built up enough pressure behind my mask. A result, I am certain, of my biological father insisting that we mustn't cry and threatening us if we didn't stop. So I am always aware of my grief, but unable to release it most of the time.
They say time heals all wounds...
and yet the passage of time
does not seem to lessen my grief.
They say to forgive and forget...
and somehow I have forgotten*
yet not forgiven.
The wound has been revealed
and remains unchanging
in its festering state.
Though the grief comes in waves,
those waves are always there
threatening to break over me.
I cannot hide from the tides
nor do I wish to.
Building a wall against the grief
will only encourage a tsunami.
So I will take the knocks
of the lesser waves
and keep coming up for air.
I'm doing all I can to stand firm
against the current.
*When I say I've forgotten here, I mean I still (for now) have no memory of the event, not that I forgot what has been disclosed to me about my past.
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