I am full

My mind never settles. It’s always full of thoughts, some meaningless and redundant it seems, and some are deep and profound…at least to me. Now that I am over four years into this hell journey of grief, it shocked me a little to have the reaction that I had just now, a full blown grief meltdown. Apparently, I am full of tears.

I know some things to be true: I am full of grief, in many different forms. I think of Colton so often throughout the day, I can’t help it. Sometimes I smile at a memory and I’m all good. Sometimes I hear a song and I sit and cry. Sometimes, if the clock catches me at 11:11, I ask for a hug and I get a full body chill during which I sit back, close my eyes and drift away while tears or acknowledgment, joy, pain, acceptance, remembrance, anxiety, gratitude, longing, and many other emotions have their way with me. Sometimes, I get nothing at all.

I am full of the condition of the world. I simply cannot watch the news without crying at least once. Being of Ukranian heritage, my grandfather being born in Kyiv, the devastation taking place there is crushing for me and I feel the pain for these people. I look at any one of them and know that they could probably slip into a family reunion on my father’s side unnoticed. We Ukranians are a strikingly handsome bunch….

I am full of people not giving a shit about each other. It seems, at least to me, that during the pandemic we all retreated into our little holes to wait it out, and now that we’re all peaking out and wondering silly things like “should I go out without a mask?”, is it ok to actually smile at someone and hope they smile back at me? Can I hope to ever lie on a beach in Mexico for a week and still be able to easily get back to the comfort and safety of my home? Is my retirement fund still secure and able to support me when I decide to say “See Ya!” in a couple of years and finally pursue my long list of “things I’ll do when I have time to do them”? Random violence is increasing, the economy is in the toilet, the next generation thinks that owning their own home is a pipe dream. I am full of it.

I am full of empty promises. Constant plans in place but no follow-through. We are ruining the earth by the way “progress” has us living our lives. I have a moment every time I take a load of single use containers to the bottle depot. It’s such a mixed feeling, for on one hand I am recycling and doing my part. On the other hand, I damn well know that at least half of it shouldn’t have been purchased in the first place. I see the homelessness here and the effects of addiction. Was it always this way and I just never saw it?? Since Colton passed I see it all, everything, highlighted in gory detail. I’m not sure if this is similar to what other bereaved mothers experience or if it’s just me, but it’s super painful and I would rather it stop. I know it won’t because I’m different now. I’m full. I wouldn’t call it a gift from the other side. It’s some sort of awakening that I have a love/hate relationship with.

I’m full of suffering in silence. I know how I feel every day. I feel like it’s a struggle to get up, put my ‘zoom’ face on and pretend that I’m fine. I know I’m not alone in this, though my reason is likely different from the people that I know and love. I have dear friends that suffer depression, not from losing a child but from a host of other reasons, health, relationships, money, where they are versus where they want to be, job stress, you name it. But they carry on, suffering in silence, with only those closest to them knowing the actual, down to the brass tacks reason for why they feel so lost, so empty, so….full.

It’s crippling, feeling full. You think you still have ‘room’, but you don’t. You’re full. Now what? You’re fucked, right? You’re trapped. Wrong.

Once you’re full, something is bound to spill over. You absolutely have NO CHOICE but to let something go. There’s no room left. Once you find yourself in this moment, you must make a decision.

What will you let go?

Well, it sounds easy. But somehow, back along the road a ways, we had this thought….the thought was “I can handle this”. “I’ll be fine”. This is an illusion. Everyone has a moment when they feel full. Anything beyond that moment is just so freaking painful. Who do we think we are that we can keep taking on more and taking on more and still not be full? Trust me, there will come a day when we finally say to ourselves….Enough.

For me, my new reality is a burden I must carry, but I will have to work on how much ‘external’ things I let in. I simply cannot deal with my grief, family health issues, work, home, people that I love….plus everything else. Something has to go.

And so, I am making a conscious effort to let go of the swirling mass of external stress that threatens to sweep me up in its hurricane force winds, and stay centered in my space, concentrating on the things that matter the most to me, period.

Imagine a world where everyone did just that.

Before long, maybe we’d all have a little room left.

And maybe, just maybe, full can take on a new, happy, comfortable feel.