The Maze of Grief

Today I hit a wall. It's been coming in waves for several days now, and I knew it was only a matter of time before it hit me full on. Well this morning, at 3:43 a.m, I knew it was official. For those of you who may not know, or don't read my blog regularly, we lost our son a little over 15 months ago. I've written about the Grief many times, and tried to explain as best as I can, what we deal with every single day. Lately, I've been finding myself wandering aimlessly through my Grief, and not quite ending up anywhere. It's like being lost in a maze, only it's a maze that has no end. There's a clear start, but no finish. Sometimes a path becomes clear for a while, and you follow it, but then out of nowhere, your path ends. In short... you hit a wall. Sometimes you know you are approaching a wall, because there are subtle signs. You can't focus, you're overly emotional, you feel like you are living in a thick fog, so you know it's only a matter of time before you stumble into something. Other times it's dates or times, seasons, holidays, or anniversaries that are approaching that you know will guide you right into a blocked path. There's no avoiding it, and there's no way around it. Sometimes you are stuck behind that wall for hours, sometimes days, sometimes weeks. Eventually, you drag yourself up and over the wall, and you keep going. If you're lucky, another path becomes clear for a bit, and you follow it. Seeking out the light whenever and wherever you can. If this sounds bizarre and confusing to you... Try living it.
This morning, at 3:43 a.m, I hit a wall. I know that because I woke up shortly before and my mind was a mess. No matter what I did, I couldn't clear it, shake it, or fall back to sleep. This is not uncommon for me, since I suffer from insomnia, but this was different. It's difficult to explain how, but it just is. You'll have to take my word for it.
Now I am trapped behind this wall. Though I am sitting at my desk, writing this post, I am only here physically. My head and heart are elsewhere. I function out of habit. I got up, showered, did my hair and makeup. I even put on some shimmery accessories. I drove to work, and I sang along to the radio. I put on my best "normal" face, and I am going about my business. Why? Because I have to. That's how it works. You don't get to hide from the world, or curl up and disappear. No matter how much you may want to, it's not an option. I can't scream and cry all the time, so I fake a smile. "Fake it til you make it." Wise words from a fellow grieving parent. That's what you do when you hit the wall. You fake it until you can bring yourself to climb up and over it, and really feel joy again. There's no way of knowing how long I'll be here. This isn't my first wall, and it certainly won't be my last. This maze is my life now...