The support group I attend mentioned that journaling could help during grief. They also said writing down all the awful, terrible things you can't say out loud, then burning it, is therapeutic. I plan to try that soon. I have awful, terrible things I need to say, to acknowledge. But I can't say them. I can't put them down here, in a blog.
The support group, while exhausting, is exactly what I need. The things I think about are being discussed. I'm not crazy. I'm not out of control. It's ok that I'm not as social right now. And there are others that hurt like I am, but that's just it. I'm hurting. I'm not suffering.
I was suffering the weeks following Enzo's suicide. Pain is a healthy, normal response. It hurts but it's not wrong. It will soften over time.
Suffering is extra. Added. Expanded. Suffering doesn't soften. It gets worse until it's interrupted. It must be changed.
I suffered. And then I started counseling. I started a support program. The help it provides is real. It's genuine. It's a tool. And I'm using the fuck out of it.
Yes I'm in pain. Yes I still talk about it. But even that, I've tried to not do as much. Death makes people uncomfortable. Especially suicide. It's not fair to push that one people so I try to not talk about it as much. The support group is the appropriate place for my grief to be seen and understood. So I'm trying to focus my discussions about death there. And here, on my own personal blog.
I will always hurt over this loss. But I'm learning to not suffer over this.
Maybe someday, I can offer the kind of help to someone else that I'm receiving from the support group.
❤️
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