I feel ashamed at the moment. Facebook Memories are messing with me badly.
Most of those old posts that are being resurrected via FB are private/only for me, but they still pack a wallop. One “memory” turned up a few minutes ago and for a split second I was back in those mornings of waking and the nightmare startling me as the loss settled in all over again like being shot with every dawn, and of not being able to breathe and just taking it one hour at a time and latching onto faith that it would get better one day.
I realized that I’ve done such a good job of compartmentalizing a past break-up and building walls around myself to make sure not to live that scene anymore that I have been a little callous toward four dear, dear friends’ more recent breakups/tragedies. In my mind, I moved them ahead in time to when their grief wasn’t so bad and to places where they’re more content now, but I wasn’t fully present with them in their pain and I rushed them toward being already healed rather than letting them heal in that way that only time can because I wanted them to be healed and happy not just for them but for me also.
Rite of Awakening — Southern Gothic with bite, Book One of the Rites of Passage. Available direct from the author →
And that was selfish of me.
It’s the exact thing I got mad at other people about when they expected me to “get over it” and “move on!” and not work through my process in my own way.
My dear ones may have thought I was compassionate, but I probably have been too selfish in some regards because I could never really let myself go “there” with them because of my own walls. I was so guarded against my own pain and fear of remembering it and immersing in it that I couldn’t allow myself to realize just how much pain they were in.
This Facebook memory tonight took me back there with just 7 words, and I have been reminded of the universality of grief and how others’ pain is no less than mine was.
I’m sorry, guys, for not being more understanding or seeming oblivious to your grief when it was so fresh to you. I really had to guard against losing myself again and while I won that battle, I do still have strips of numbness where the scars are.
Key Takeaway: Sometimes, coldness means self-protection.
A Southern witch returns home. Secrets won’t stay buried. A chance to confront and heal—or face the consequences.
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