Open letter: To my grief

January 23, 2019

Dear grief.

 

You and me are old friends.  I thought I would have got rid of you by now, but yet, here you are - still lingering around.  You don't rear your ugly head as often as you used to, but I can still feel you behind me, just like a shadow.

 

You make me sick.  Physically and mentally.

 

I didn't meet you until five years ago, but you gave me a migraine, made me vomit and turned me into an angry, tearful child that didn't want to put their teddybear down.  Literally.  It was the first time I swore and raised my voice at my dad, and grief - you made that happen.  I was so angry with myself.  I've never seen my dad look so angry and raise his voice back at me like that.  But, grief, you did that to him too.  You are an asshole.

 

I always try and pretend you are not around, pretend you don't exist.  But you do.  You're there, just hanging around like a bad smell, waiting for a moment of weakness.

 

Something might jog my memory of that first time I met you; another death, an illness, comments from my nephew. And you pop up with an evil grin on your face, greeting me like an old friend.

 

I hate you.

 

You make everyone miserable, you change the way people behave. I can't think of a single positive thing you made me do.

 

And grief, you destroy me when I least expect it.  You left me crying the night before my wedding, you left me struggling the morning of my wedding.  In fact, when I see my photos you are there standing behind me.

 

Are you ever going to leave?  Maybe one day I will get rid of you.  Maybe one day I can look you in the eye and tell you that you aren't going to run my life anymore.  And then, that day, you will back down.

 

One day.

 

xxx

 

P.S. Fuck you, grief.

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