I am a huge propionate of grieving well as key to mental health. There's been scientific studies about how important it is. It's still really yucky. I intentionally choose it over cutting. I've been dodging grief for a while. This weekend the combination of reading Mel White's book "Stranger at the Gate", thoughts of telling my parents I'm gay, wishing I was hanging out a long list of unavailable people, the whole thing with "y" of two weeks ago, and an entire day alone changed that. I threw open the door to grief.
I found myself laying flat on my back, face up, tears running down around my ears, unable to breath... I sobbed in the way that makes my entire body convulse and heave, orgasmic-like but more violent. It was metamorphosis passing through. I didn't try and dodge it. Just wondered if this convulsive, shaking, sobbing, was my extraction from a cocoon? I asked God to come. I sobbed through the stage where my throat starts hurting, my head thrown back... It was ugly, messy and loud.
I will live this moment raw. God be the padded wall I convulse against and the salt in the ocean of grief I purposefully and intentionally dive straight into. Today I refuse to run or turn away from pain. I choose it to cutting, coping and escapism. No one is here to hold me through it, but I am not alone.
And finally I'm done. I feel light headed. My insides and throat feel like tin foil, raw. I suck in air. And for the first time I feel still inside without any squirming from my life. My self has gone from being curved in a ball to standing straight up.