Another Christmas, Another Dead Grandpa.
I know I’m not on theme with this title, and I don't care.
Last year, on December 11, 2020, my grandpa on my mom’s side passed away. I flew out to North Carolina for his funeral and spent time with a side of my family I hadn’t seen in seven years (since I lived in Colorado). Going into holiday season this year (2021), I sent out group texts to my loved ones giving them a heads up that I was having a difficult time, and to please not take it personally if I am a little more irritable, or if I need to step away in case I feel over-stimulated, or overwhelmed. My boyfriends sisters (my sisters from another mister) were so sweet and even surprised me with a bag of goodies to show their understanding for my grief and anxiety this time of year.
Note to anyone with a friend struggling with anxiety/grief: get them soft pjs and fuzzy blankets ;) good luck catching me in anything else.
Christmas came and went, and it was wonderful. It was low-key, and I felt the power in the boundaries I set going into it. I knew I had the space to feel whatever I was feeling because I allowed it to myself.
I woke up the Tuesday after Christmas morning with a pain in my right shoulder. My right shoulder has been acting up for about two months. Those of you who study trauma and how it resonates in the body already know, but for the rest of you this was a reflection of my increased stress and anger. My dreams leading up to (and still after) have been vivid and horrific. I found out around 1PM that my grandpa on my dad’s side of the family passed away. I was at the office, luckily the only one, and immediately texted my boss to let her know I would be taking the rest of the afternoon off to process. She was very sweet and understanding. I felt my anxiety worsen and my breath get shorter and shorter, so I took a few long, deep breaths. I had ordered groceries that morning to be delivered to my office around 3PM, so I decided to waste some time before going home. I went to 29th Street Mall in Boulder and walked around. I didn’t do anything except walk up and down stairs and walk up and down the street. At some point I realized I probably looked like a crazy person with puffy, swollen eyes, a runny nose and a pissy face, but I didn’t care. All the walking let my body process what was going on so I could think through how I really felt about it. I have found that when in doubt, go for a walk. I always have more clarity after a walk. I also didn’t have a full-blown panic attack!
Not having a panic attack is a big win for me. Last year I had three to five a day after my other grandpa passed away. In October when our Oma passed away, I had a panic attack in a closet at my boyfriend’s sisters house during brunch after dropping a crepe. *shrugging shoulder emoji
I got back to the office around 2:30 and watched Netflix on my phone. I texted my loved ones and let them know what was going on. I was in a group chat with my sisters and it was nice that even though I was in a different state that we could still semi-process the loss together. I got my groceries, and got home safely. I turned on Grace and Frankie, grabbed my hot Cheetos (my ultimate comfort food), a jug of water, ibuprofen, a roll of toilet paper (we were out of tissue paper), and a garbage bag. I watched my show, stretched, cried, on rotation until I felt slightly better around 7PM. I like to be alone to process. I am not a cuddler when I’m upset. He asked me what would help, and I settled on watching The Newsies together. He had never seen it and it’s one of my all-time favorite musicals. It also makes me feel connected to my family since we used to all watch it together. When we turned it on, the first song made me sob. Not uncontrollably, but sob none-the-less. That wore off, and we finished the movie. I went back to bed and slept. Not well, but I did sleep around 6 hours which is more than I expected.
The next day I arranged to work from home so I could not have to deal with people. It’s been three days, and I’m feeling decent. I will be sad for a while. I know this. I’ve been sad for a year already. I’ll be angry at times. I feel guilty for not visiting that side of my family more recently. Then, I don’t feel guilty. Which makes me feel more guilty. I wish I had more photos with them. I don’t really have any. I definitely don’t have any on my phone or Facebook, or anything like that. I had to Google their old farm name to show Jonny it. This made me cry more. I sent Jonny a thank you text this morning just to say thank you for letting me be sad and mad when I feel it, and being there and loving me anyways. (I had to step away because even typing that made me cry again). My nose is RAW. And chapped. From the crying. Plus, bonus, there is now a huge fire due to something like 120 MPH winds in our area. Sometimes life is a lot. Sometimes it helps to show gratitude to the people that are there for us in the middle of it and it makes it just a teensy weensy bit less hard.
Tonight, I am going to see the new West Side Story with one of my SFAMs (sister from another mister) and I can’t wait. I warned her that I will be ugly crying. Let’s hope the theater doesn’t burn down. ;)
Hang in there babes, and let’s rock this new year.
Sharon
