Grief as a Thief of Joy

Grief is sticky. It is thick and messy and has a way of clinging to you that can feel so heavy it's suffocating. But it's also warm and comforting, it wraps you in its embrace so tight you wonder why you should ever leave. Grief is a lot like honey; golden and warm and thick. It tastes sweet, but it attracts flies. If grief is honey then my depression is the flies that it attracts, and let me tell you, together they create a perfect storm. They come swarming around, drowning out the sounds of life until all I am left with is a roaring buzz.

Over the past few months since my last post, that buzz has become the soundtrack to my existence, draping itself over everything that I do. It can be hard to hear past it, until every day becomes a waiting game until the next. Bleeding into each other, dripping slowly. Pretty soon you have lost a whole span of time, and the thought of that can be exhausting. Everything is tiring. And so you try to push yourself past it. If you can just force yourself to do some work, to be productive, to finish that project, then maybe you can push yourself out of grief and back into reality. But it doesn't work. It's overwhelming. Everything is too much and the buzzing gets louder.

The thing is, grief isn't just something you get over, it's something you have to move through. It moves with you until you adapt past dependence, past the comfort that grief provides. Like honey, grief is viscous. It is resistant to fluidity, but it will flow all the same. When we allow it to remain stagnant within us, when we push it down or off, that is when it begins to steal our joy. That is when the flies come to play. Of course, I can only speak from experience, but living with my grief, feeling its ebb and flow, and allowing it to take its natural course is the only reason I have found the strength to write today.

So, here is to reclaiming my passions and all the joy that comes with them. Hopefully it won't slip so easily through my fingers the next time.

- Tiffany 
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