Grief and emotions in recovery

Imagine going to sleep, waking up and finding out you killed somebody. 

That's exactly what happened to me. 

Three years ago, I was drunk and fell asleep at the wheel. I'm not trying to make excuses.

But I never ever would have done such a thing on purpose. And if there were some way I could go back and change it, I would. 

In fact, I've been sober ever since.

Now I'm paying for my crime by being incarcerated two weeks a year for the next 10 years.

This blog follows my journey afterward, trying to put my life back together in between spending a week in jail at Christmas and at Father's Day each year.

My grandmother,  Clara Marie Cornwell,  died early yesterday.

She was the graceful, soft-spoken matriarch of the family,  the glue that held us all together, anything you could ever ask for in a grandparent.

I am reeling from this devastating loss.

Through the hills and valleys of grief,  I walk sober through the pain.

I want it to end. I don't want to feel. I never wanted this day to come; it's like someone reached inside me and ripped out my inner child to leave a wandering, bleeding mess of an adult who doesn't know how to live in a world without the one person who always, always loved her unconditionally.

And on top of that someone else stood over my wounds today with a can of Morton's salt,  seasoning my misery.

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I had to set a boundary today with someone I love, someone who wanted it done her way, someone who added insult to injury,  someone who hurt me in a time of grief and pain.

It was not easy. It was not fun.

Somehow I know things between us are never going to be the same. That hurts too.

As I ponder the day's events, I know I can still rest knowing I did nothing to stomp on anyone's feelings today.

I didn't lash out in my grief or retaliate when verbally accosted.

Today,  I know resentments can kill me. They can make me drink or take drugs, and nothing in this world is worth a drink or a drug.

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My heart is still breaking over grandma's death. She is dead;  and I haven't even buried her yet.

Somehow,  I got tangled up in something far less important today.

So,  from here on out,  I've decided that nothing negative, no person,  place or thing is going to rob me of my proper time to grieve.

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My grandma was a saint.

She helped me emotionally,  giving me refuge as a child who was verbally abused.

She built my self esteem and showed me what it was to love someone without bounds.

She was always there on my birthday.

She put my daughter through preschool.

She helped me countless times financially.

She was a constant source of light and hope in my life and always told me how proud she was of me.

And for these next days,  until she's laid to rest,  she will have my undivided attention.

She will always have my love.

















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