Relapse

Two years later and here I sit in front of my computer typing the word "relapse".  I can't put my finger on it but I'm fairly certain that I am experiencing a relapse of grief (from which son, who knows, my guess is Eli).  It's not that I find myself staring at pictures or holding their things.  Not at all.  I suspect it from the way I feel.  The feelings of isolation, of no one understanding me, the feeling of just wanting to crawl into a shell for a while.  The tears that are constantly beneath the surface but barely spill over.

I don't know the whys and the hows for this one, I am taken completely off guard.  There are many possible triggers in my life right now so it could be any one or a combination.  I've been feeling off for weeks now but it wasn't until after I was able to have a really good cry while looking at Eli's picture (my one and only really good cry for a long long time) that I admitted what my subconscious had been thinking to myself and out loud.  I was pretty sure that the grieving process just wasn't done with me yet.  My good friend the internet was very helpful in letting me know I'm not crazy and that perhaps I didn't fully grieve after Eli's death.  That seems possible, if not likely, considering I had three young children to look after and in the grand scheme of things my life only stopped for a moment for me to grieve before I was plunged head first back into the harsh reality of daily life outside my cocoon of sadness.  I can't pinpoint any particular thing that I didn't grieve but that's the funny thing about grief I suppose, it's different for all of us in every way, shape and form.  I'm different than the first time I grieved the loss of a son so my grief was very different the second time around.

I'm writing this though to let you know that it can happen and that if it does, it's important to tell someone.  I felt ashamed that this could be happening to me so far down the road but shame doesn't solve problems, it only creates more.  I'm looking at this like a very small and untimely speed bump on my road and I will work my way over it just like I have all the others.  One of many.  One of many.