Getting "Better"

I began this post yesterday and I was angry. I promised myself over theses last months that I would not be angry, I would not give into the anger as it is a useless emotion but yesterday I lost that battle.

Over the course of the last few weeks people have begun to ask me the question “am I better” or even worse, people who don’t know me talk about how I am not getting better. And yes, it made me angry.

But this morning I took a step back, reigned in the anger and changed this post.

I looked up the word better. Did you know it is an adjective, a verb, and a noun. It is all of those things.

Better as a verb is to make more complete. It got me to thinking if I am incomplete? Is there something I am lacking as a person? The obvious answer is yes, I am missing my son here on earth.

I can never change that, so for that the idea of "better" does not work.

The noun means to be better than someone else. I don't believe that is what people mean when they talk about being better here. I don't believe they are looking for me to compete in my grief and be better than others. Its not a competition.

In this case I believe those who use the word better mean it as the adjective- to recover from an illness or being unwell. That my grief makes me unwell.

Let me tell you, grief is extremely tough. It is like carrying around a 20 pound weight in my stomach every day. It is a constant mental struggle that leaves me physically tired most of the time. It is grief.

I can say this for a fact - I had more mental health issues before CJ died, and in that sense was unwell then.

I had so many problems, the same so many others suffer from. Loneliness, self worth issues, self doubt issues, depression. Those issues don’t hold sway over me anymore. So does that make me better? Some would say yes, but oh what a price to pay to achieve that. The loss of my son is a thousands times worse. Now I have only grief, and an overwhelming longing to take what I have learned in the aftermath of his death and turn back time.

I am not even sure what they are looking for in me to be better.

To stop crying every day? Never gonna happen. Each tear is shed for him.

To stop talking about him? Never going to happen. I will talk about my son until the sky falls into the sea.

To stop grieving for him? Never. I will always feel the pain. It is a measure of my love and my love was and is endless.

My grief is not an illness. My grief is not a sickness. I won’t get better. It’s time to just accept that. I have.

Let’s face it, this post is still a little angry. But I think we can cut me some slack on that.