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I’m looking at you through the glass
Don’t know how much time has passed
Oh God it feels like forever
But no one ever tells you that forever feels like home
Sitting all alone inside your head

– Stone Sour, “Through Glass”


I don’t know who this is for, exactly, but it’s been rattling around in my head all week long. This is MY blog, and I’m not using bad words, and if you are pretty sure this doesn’t apply to you, you’re probably right. I do have some good support and some good shoulders to lean on, near and far. I just want to unload this because I think it needs to be said on behalf of people who are grieving any kind of loss.

Just because I am okay (relatively speaking) most of the time does NOT mean everything is okay. Everything is not okay. It is not close to okay. I’m not always 100% sure what okay is. Going through every hour of every day thinking about Earth life vs. the afterlife, religion, destiny, what’s a signal from the other side and what isn’t, life, death, the spiritual vs. the physical… THIS IS NOT NORMAL. Okay? This takes a f-ing toll. This works on my mind. I get tired of it, I move away from it for awhile, but I come back eventually. I’m up, I’m down. I’m laughing, then I’m crying. I have no patience AT ALL.

This is not me being bitchy. This is me TRYING TO COPE. And, frankly, if you think I’m doing it wrong, you don’t like the way I behave, you think I’m too moody or whatever, then just leave me alone. Seriously, just throw up your hands and give up on me. Spare us both the hassle. You can’t honestly call yourself a great supportive friend if you’re only supportive when you feel like it. I know this is selfish, but at the moment I don’t entirely care: I do not have the time or the energy to deal with anyone wanting me to be some other way. I simply don’t have it in me — it IS NOT THERE. So either pick up a crash helmet and board the coaster, or walk away from the thrill ride and get a refund.

I’m sensitive and moody as hell, even worse than I was BEFORE my baby brother suddenly died. It’s not intentional. But it’s reality, and it’s unpredictable and irritating to pretty much everybody — including myself (NEWS FLASH). Since I’m not a complete idiot, I’m well aware of this, thank you. I’m working on it. But you know what? Death and grief aren’t pretty. They aren’t comfortable. They come with a complete nasty package and I suspect that the most important factor when it comes to working through it is TIME.

When I lost the baby a few years ago I learned something unpleasant and I’m learning it again now: People say they understand and they’re there for you, but really, certain people can’t deal with it, and they expect you to grieve on THEIR terms. They’re okay with you being upset, but only at the right time, with plenty of notice, and only for a short amount of time. And if you need more support than a couple of pats or a sympathetic “I know, man, it sucks,” well now you’re a little bit needy, and confusing, and can’t you knock it off and do this right and not be so bitchy?

You know what I’d prefer? I’d prefer if he hadn’t died at all! DAMMIT! I’d much rather be my usual self, dealing with a touch of depression, PMS and the usual girl stuff. I didn’t freaking ask for this. And I’m not going to do it your way. I’m not even doing it MY WAY, because my way would be for my brother to still be here with us, where I can see him and hug him and hear his laugh and see Zoey’s face light up when he danced with her. I guess what I’m saying is, HELL YES, I’m giving myself free rein to be in a foul mood. I think I have a good enough excuse.