The Annoying Mime Held Captive in the Box of My Brain

It feels like an annoyingly determined mime pressing intently on the inside of my temples as he tries to escape his invisible, imaginary box. I thought I was just tired after eight days in strange beds and extroversion. But even after three nights of sound sleep not much has changed. I still feel cloudy. That annoying mime is still pushing and pushing. Oh, wait! I know what this is. I’m just used to seeing it from a different angle. This is grief. It always feels different to be in it, not just near it. Last week I could keep my distance from it. I was 10 hours away from the epicenter of the loss my family experienced. It was hard, but it didn’t really hit. Yesterday it took over. I struggled to write, which means I struggled to think. I scribbled the date in the upper left corner, then just stared at the pale gray horizontal lines of the blank page of my notebook. Maybe a blank page is the most honest reflection I could write yesterday. My co-worker and friend (Bri) carried the load at work and I went home early. I went home to relish the sometimes too-infrequent opportunity to see and hug Michelle and the kids. It was good for my soul to see them while they were awake rather than my normal routine of sneaking in quietly as they sleep when I get home from my shift at the hospital. They were… they ARE what I needed. Even just a few minutes with them was like a healing balm that helped me start to feel like myself again. Or maybe they are like a box cutter that can cut through the packing tape holding that annoying mime captive in the box of my brain. I’m still not whole. Grief doesn’t just go away. It doesn’t magically vanish or even fade quickly. But at least today I can see a little more straight and think with more clarity.