small pieces of joy

pieces of joy in each day

crazyland

on June 11, 2014

Grief makes you crazy.

There is so much truth to that statement. I feel crazy almost all the time. Let’s look at today.

George and I had breakfast at Starbucks in Target and then went on a shopping spree, mostly because I just wanted to buy things. After finding a facial mask, bubbles, coloring book, crayons, Curious George DVD, Superman hat, and a card, we went to check out.

I had left my purse at the Starbucks.

George and I rushed to the Starbucks to get my purse as the lady was scanning our items. We got my purse and ran back just in time. I paid and was about to put the bags in the cart to leave when the lady asked if I had paid for the hat that was on George’s head.

Great. I’m stealing from Target now.

We quickly did another transaction and left feeling more scattered than ever.

I know this happens to everyone at some point. But it is so frustrating when I feel things like this happening multiple times a day. My subconscious is so busy processing my feelings and it comes out in the most strange of ways.

Something that normally wouldn’t bother me annoys me more these days. I spend way too much time worrying about the littlest things. I can barely manage a coherent conversation, and when I do I leave it feeling as if I said the dumbest things. Eating out for the rest of the year sounds like a great idea. I cry at the smallest things that remind me of Dad, which happen at the most inopportune times. Then I’m laughing two seconds later at something George did.

Doesn’t it all sound a little crazy?

But it is a normal part of grieving, as I’ve been told. Knowing that crazy is normal is difficult to understand. And very difficult to live with.

As this crazy consumes my life, it is hard to have compassion with myself. I’m learning that ‘I shouldn’t be acting this way’ needs to become ‘This is how I’m acting’. And I’m trying to figure out how to make the response to the actions as positive as possible.

When being a friend to someone in grief, someone ‘in Crazyland’ as I feel, please show that you care. Call them and ask them to share their crazy with you. Listen as they talk about their loved one as much or as little as they want. Offer to take them out of Crazyland for a moment and get back into the real world, or give them a gift card to their favorite place if you can’t take them there. Ask them how they are, tell them how much you love them, and don’t worry if something you say makes them cry. In some cases, crying is exactly what they may need.

I don’t think I’m going to get out of Crazyland for a long time. The visit will be much more bearable with my own compassion and that of others. And this little guy.

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 When have you felt like you’re in Crazyland? What are some tips to make the visit more bearable?

 

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2 responses to “crazyland

  1. Keithy says:

    I don’t think I told you this, but the other day I rubbed toothpaste all over my face before I realized it wasn’t my face wash.

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  2. You are where you. If you think you’re doing your best to cope, then it’s your best. Other than shoplifting, I’d not to rush to change yourself because you will miss the learning and maturing and growing that is the gift of having had a fantastic Dad and now you have to learn how to cope without him. That growth won’t be easy, and it will be terrifying and saddening.

    I guess the only ray of hope that I can offer is this….let the grief mold you in positive ways that you couldn’t have imagined in the good times. Let it strengthen your love for your family and friends as they take the journey with you. Keep this hard earned wisdom close because it is so precious and comes at such a high cost….let it shape you into a more beautiful, kind and loving person (I say that but don’t really know if it’s possible b/c you were so darn nice to start off with).

    I just don’t think our good Lord will let this time of pain and suffering be wasted on being sad and lost. I think He can turn it into something else….what I don’t know.

    My dad passed in 1976 and I still miss him on the holidays and Father’s Day…and so often I feel like an orphan. But it’s not true and I work to visualize him sitting beside me and imagine what he would say to me. I know it sounds weird, but I know in my heart of hearts what he would say and that makes me feel a whole lot better. It’s the only thing I can pass along that offers any comfort.

    Sending hugs and love your way. I stand as your friend and honor your grief journey.

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