Grief + Liberation

I read this line from Christopher Moore's A Dirty Job:

"There's a fine edge to new grief, it severs nerves, disconnects reality- there's mercy in a sharp blade. Only with time, as the edge wears, does the real ache begin."

As ridiculous as Moore can be, this quote expresses in better terms than I can where I am at right now. After you left I rode on adrenaline and shock for awhile. Now that you are gone the grief has settled in. Into my brain, my shoulders, my heart and my eyes to be precise.

You took the ground out from under me when you left. I realized a few weeks ago that I had no ground, I had lost my footing. This the first time I'm typing these words- they have gone over and over in my head but I haven't had the courage to type them. So I'm hoping you can imagine how hard it feels for my to say these words to you while you are looking at me -albeit on a stupidass webcam from a million miles away. I just couldn't let you see me hysterical yet again. I don't feel comfortable with you like that anymore. Time and distance change things, you know.

And I have to be honest that I have been avoiding you. As ridiculous a thing that may seem to be for someone on a different continent, it's true. It's really hard to talk to you sometimes. It's hard for me to see you seeming as chaotic as you were here but still superficially living. And I know I am totally judging and I may be wrong. But I see you still passively living, and life is floating on by. I hope I'm wrong. But its hard to perceive you this way, particularly as the distance grows further and our connection diminishes and you progressively lose the language we speak in, I feel like I have no way to shake you, wake you up a little.

How terribly arrogant of me, huh? It's true. I am spending a lot of time in my head so I have plenty of time to formulate this psychobabble. And I speak from a vulnerable place myself so what right do I have to cast stones? Because of our history, our bond I just need to tell you what's happening, however much in my head. I am sad. I am sadder than I can ever remember being. Tears remain in my eyes all the time. They have for almost 5 months now- something I've never experienced before in my life. Honestly, I think the migraines might be from me having to work so hard to keep from crying all the time- like the pressure is too much.

But the silver lining is that for the first time in almost 5 years, I am not worried. I spent 4 and a half long years with you, worried all the time. Worried about what would happen next, if things would go right or wrong on big and small levels, if you would sleep with a friend of mine again, worried about what information you were withholding from me, worried about when you were going to leave me. And then it happened, you did leave. Which deep down I always knew you would. And I'm not blaming, I'm explaining, perhaps something you already knew. And it is an extremely strange experience to feel both this pain, this sadness, and this liberation, this freedom from my worries all at once. And that is what I've been wanting to talk to you about, to tell you about. To let you know how I am doing.