I got a message this week that reminded me why I started writing this blog. It wasn't just as a vent for my emotions, but with the hope of a higher purpose, of helping other people who find themselves, or their loved ones, in a similar situation to me.
I know I've written quite a few down beat posts of late, I guess in part because that's the whole feeling of the nation at the moment. But I'm sure another reason is because it can sometimes be difficult to admit that there are days when I feel okay. It's one thing to say I am going to celebrate Lauren's life, but another to actually describe doing it.
I can feel guilty when I laugh, when I have fun. I think this is due to the way we are expected to grieve, the sackcloth and ashes, wail at the wall approach. But that's not helpful. My approach is to laugh and to talk about Lauren often, things she did, how she would feel about certain situations, especially with her younger siblings. At first the words would stick in my throat and twist my heart. But it has become easier to talk about her, and it is so lovely. She will always be an intrinsic part of our family.
I am not broken. I can function. I can laugh and have fun. I can even go for a few hours without feeling like a grieving mum.
I do things that before Lauren's death I would have rolled my eyes at, as I'm sure she would too. I take long baths in healing bath salts, with tranquil smelling candles and meditation music playing. I take any supplements I think will help against stress, drink herbal tea, spray on magnesium before bed.
I also collapse into sobs at random moments.
But underneath all the calming crystals I am still the same person.
And I am in a much better place than I was five months ago. Time doesn't heal on it's own. It is what you do with the time that counts. Also, I'm not sure if heal is the right word. This isn't something I'm going to get better from. The pain is just something that I need to live with. Time can just give you the potential to learn how to live with grief.