I have been involved in an argument on facebook about “grief” this afternoon (very mature, I know – there were some classic lines that I should send Supa for “shit-people-say-to-widows“).
But it actually turned out to be a misunderstanding where the other person had confused grief with depression.
To me, grief is something that I live with everyday.
It is simple: I miss Greg. I wish he was here. I feel sad about the loss of the life we should have had. It makes me feel fearful and anxious at times and at other times, it helps me to feel compassion and understanding.
Talking about it here (and on facebook and letting the demons out on my personal blog) has really helped me to learn to live with it.
It lives with me, it bites sometimes, but it no longer controls me: I hold down a job, I care for my children and I watch them develop into decent, caring human beings.
Depression is something very different. I have tasted it. I have spent evenings wallowing in it. I have tried constructing “exit plans” at two in the morning (which were destined to fail).
I have contemplated drinking myself into oblivion on more than one occasion (but haven’t – somebody has to be the parent here).
I’m fairly sure most of us have felt depression’s darkness at some point.
But I recovered from it.
I know I wont ever “recover” from grief.
…and I don’t really want to.
Grief is as much a part of my life as joy is.
The darkness and the light sit side by side.
PS – Sorry if you were expecting a valentine’s lament today, but we never really fell in for the hype, so it’s not something I think about enough to construct a post on.