Apologies

April 21, 2009


The is no manual for grief because we all grieve differently, and I believe my differences as I subsist grant grief the ability to exist as a whispering Queen in the ear of all that affects the landscape of myself. She affects relationships and physical appearance; she strategically moves around depression, anxiety and confusion as pawns blocking any forward progress; she intentionally allows me to smile just so she can sober me with guilt. She keeps me awake with her merciless murmuring.

Somewhere between confidence and pride, I believe that I can do anything that is in front of me and do it well. I’m not sure if that’s the Army or being the oldest child or having to be my own teacher of life that allows me to believe that, but I do. Yet, I have not found a way to do grief well or consistently. I go through waves or she takes me through waves- I’m not sure if I allow her or she allows me but I do know that I don’t want to go down that road that always leads to my question of reality; so, I’ll say she has control for now, while I hold out hope of some horizon.

She has caused me to occasionally voice what I would otherwise hold on to. I recognize that I am closed. I have been partly because of the value I place on my feelings, opinions, judgments, views and beliefs; and, I know less than a handful that actually listen instead of waiting for a turn to speak again. I have been so partly because of my inability to compress and deliver the way I think. I have a close friend in that conscientious handful that calls it verbal constipation. But, I do so mostly because when I am able to say what I feel, with feeling, it comes out always uncut and sometimes cutting.

I am sorry if I have offended you in my candid unveiling. I have always felt that the burden of proof rests in the hands of the sender, regardless of intention, and I recognize my negligence. I offer no “buts” or “becauses” as accessories, just an authentic apology. I should be more like Christ. I can only hope that I learn to die more, daily, regardless of the whispers.

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