COLLISION implies the coming together of two or more things with such force that both or all are damaged or their progress is severely impeded. —Merriam Webster
Not a great day today.
Not an actual collision, but a collision of complications connected with the death of my husband.
If I were to name it, were it a story I was writing, I might call it “The complex realities of grief” or “Trauma meets more trauma.”
Not a great day today.
My experience of naming the trauma today makes me cautious about naming it here. The last thing I need is someone telling me that what happened was “not that bad.”
But trauma is in the eye of the traumatized, not in the eye of the distant witness who has no idea how I feel.
My dog killed a squirrel today.
I was the one who had to clean up afterward.
My body is still in a bit of shock.
I am resisting telling myself that(a) I should get over it,(b) it could have been worse,(c) or…endless other shaming observations.
I came face to face with death in a way I did not feel up to.
I came face to face with yet another of life’s problems that my husband took care of and took in his stride with nary a blink.
I came face to face with the fact that I have been a HSP (highly sensitive person) most of my life and grief likes to test me with situations that ask, “Are you still super sensitive? What about if this happens?”
My body is in a slow-motion version of shock.
After going out, I didn’t feel like coming home today, but I did.
Unfairly, I have still not talked to my dog yet, though I did take care to feed and water her.
Unsurprisingly, I cannot get the image of the squirrel out of my. mind.
Predictably, I am going to bed.
Not a great day today.
