grief · Writing for Grief

To heal

“I don’t have a name. I don’t know what to do.
The only thing I know for certain is that I must begin to heal.

Just like every time my life was re-created, I had to begin restoring the foundered part of my being: the lost relationships, the familiarity of a neighborhood, the sense of the person I might have been. There is an algebraic term for the technique for distributing two binomials, called the FOIL method. It stands for first, outer; inner, last. And that is exactly how I have learned to repair myself time after time: from the outside in.”

p.233 “The Girl She Used to Be,” by David Cristofano

Is this ‘faking it until you make it’? This is/was one of my favorite sayings. If a friend told me they were unsure of their status at a new job, or felt uncomfortable in a new situation, I’d spout it out.  As long as no one knew you felt that insecurity, you’d be able to hid it until you don’t anymore.

I think in a way, that’s what I’m doing now. As long as I look like I’m a well functioning, adjusted person, eventually I’ll become one. I won’t be the friend whose baby died. People won’t think of me in horror as what could happen to them. I won’t be the reason that my friends are scared when they are pregnant. If I make my jokes and go out enough, I’ll be me again.

But the old me doesn’t exist anymore. This new me has to balance the fear of everything. Because no one is safe. Just because this shitty thing happened to us, doesn’t mean another shitty thing won’t happen. This doesn’t save us from future horror, it just makes it more present in my everyday life.

Is aknowledging that this is me now, me healing? Or can I decide that this isn’t the me I want to be and I can go back to a closer version to the old me. I don’t think many people would think I’ve changed that much. In my head I feel like I’m acting like the old me.  But internally I’m all over the place. I’ve never been a crier. Now a day doesn’t go by without my tears. I used to say I was an anxious person, now I know what anxiety really is. I used to think I was a good supportive friend. Now I know how to really be one by how I was treated both good and bad. Is trying to be the old me, me healing, or do I just really need to start over?


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