I have this urge to sit down and write, and I don't know what it is that is needing to come out. Maybe it's the fact that starting today, the next 3 months are full of trigger dates.
Dates that stick in your mind and make you sit in thoughts and memories, both good and bad.
I feel I've turned a corner in my grief lately. I've begun to figure out how to cope with this, not just survive it. Writing about it seems to help for some reason. And not just journaling, but sharing it publicly.
Journaling seems to have it's own specific purpose. A place for me to release all the awful, scary, weird and confusing thoughts that swirl in my mind endlessly until released. The things you dare not say out loud for some reason, however they still need to be processed and let go.
Then there is this. I don't know why I feel the need to write here, but what I share feels spirit guided. It's what God is putting on my heart to put into words and put out there for more then just myself to read.
I may have more posts as in these upcoming months as well. In this new stage of grief I'm feeling the need to face these trigger dates head on and truly process them. I even downloaded the Timehop app which shows you pictures and postings from your social media sites and phone from this day in years passed. Until now I have hated seeing people's Timehop photos show up on my newsfeed. I wished I could find it interesting to know, but it only made my reality hurt deeper. But now, I think I'm ready to face the hurt that brings healing, so I will lean into it, not away from it.
One year ago on this day we found out the cancer returned by the results of Brandon's emergency PET scan. I was in the last week of my pregnancy. Fear consumed us.
I close my eyes and get visual flashes of parts of that day. They are utterly hard to think about. The feelings of that day come alive again. My heart starts beating fast, anxiety rises, dreams start breaking and tears flow.
Four years ago on this day we awaited the results of Brandon's treatment completion PET scan. I close my eyes and am now transported back to our apartment, and I feel the anticipation in waiting, and the hope for healing, and the fear of the unknown. I took a moment to re-read my CaringBridge Update (<--click to read) from that day, and feel partly like I'm reading someone else's words, and partly like I just wrote them. It's all very conflicting.
But what I have found to be very true is the common saying that "The only way to do it, is go through it." Not around it, and not avoiding it. And I feel ready to continue through the darkness of this grief. "They" say there is light on the other side. God says He can redeem anything, and I believe Him. So I will try to walk by faith. Steps that have never mislead me before.