Positive...

Before I go bat shit fucking crazy and start going to places where I’m not making any sense, let me just say this as a disclaimer of sorts…I am one angry turkey. It’s that time of year again when I’m reminded of losing Rob and I don’t know where to put my feelings. They would like a direction and writing has certainly given me that direction as well as running, and the focus that work offers has been welcome but nothing fully eases all this sadness, grief, and anger.
I should talk. I know this. I should open up to another human being. Preferably a therapist who has an unbiased opinion but what I want, is to be open with the people I’m closest to but that’s too hard. I want to tell the person in front of me that I hurt, but for me, hurt equals weakness and I don’t want to show anyone that.
Why?
Well, for starters, every time I open my mouth I feel like I’m slamming my head against a wall. The wall is thick and made of the hardest concrete and keeps any sound from permeating through it. Tears are also threatening to come if the words don’t. I’ve gone right back to not wanting to cry in front of people. When I do squeak something out it usually starts innocently enough but morphs into some strange rambling with no direction and when I’m finally done, I feel silly for all that I’ve given up to someone.
Then there’s the “positive” feedback. This is where the person I’m speaking to reminds me to remain “positive.” What the fuck do you think I’ve been doing this whole fucking time?! I could have gone down a scary road. I feel I’ve worked very hard at remaining positive, at seeing the good at having to learn such an excruciating lesson so early in life. When Rob died, I took time for myself. I didn’t shut off, I talked to people. I made time for writing and running. I went back to work, and did the best I could to function in society. I didn’t sink into my eating disorder, but continued to go to meetings and continued to connect with people. Eventually I made it up to Chicago which was the plan to begin with. I could have stayed in Atlanta, could have stopped everything but nope, I chose to keep going. So tell me dear person, where is it that you come off saying that I need to stay “positive” when I feel I have? Since when is it not ok not to be sad, or hurt or angry or even selfish? Sometimes I need to be. I react so strongly to your “positive” declarations because I feel I’m not entitled to feel anything else. Even when I do and express those feelings I always feel the need to wrap up my lil outburst with something positive, just so you can be assured that I am in fact ok and I’m not headed for the looney bin any time soon. Regardless of entitlement, the feelings, the negative ones are still there, waiting patiently to descend and make their presence known just as much as the positives ones. If I don’t feel everything as it comes I’ll be even more of a mess than I am now and what fun would that be?
I don’t ask for these feelings. I don’t ask for anger and hurt. I know you don’t either. I don’t know why they come. I don’t know why I constantly want to yell and scream and punch things. I miss Rob, sure. I love him still, yes. Sometimes I can’t believe that this happened. That one minute he was there and the next, in an instant, he’s not. How does anyone wrap their mind around death? How can you ask me to stay positive when you have no idea what’s going on in my head, the depths of anything I’m currently feeling? Maybe I would be if I could be but for today, it’s not going to happen.
So, well meaning human, what I need is acceptance. Not only from you but from myself. I need acceptance that all my feelings can be experienced freely and openly no matter how dark they seem to be. I need to feel ok with being angry without fear of having to be reminded to be positive. I need to sink into the dark stuff, the weakness, the anger, the hurt to keep on feeling the positive feelings that I more often than not posses. Please and thank you.