My fellow grievers know just what I am talking about. It's that rush of emotion that jumps up and beats the crap out of you before you have a chance to brace yourself. It's the over-the-top sobbing that leaves your eyes swollen til you can't see out of them and your nose as red as Rudolph's. When it's finally over and you fall asleep, the reminder just bites you in the ass the next day, because you wake up with a killer headache and a puffy Pillsbury doughboy face. Yeah, that's the one. It hit me like the proverbial ton of bricks on Friday night. I don't know why. Maybe I'm overtired. I know I'm stressed. I was PMSing, too. Whatever excuse I want to give it, the fact of the matter is that grief just punches you whenever the hell that bully feels like it. It's usually a sucker punch, too, because, well, grief is a bully, after all.
So, anyhow, sometimes, I am pushed to journal by that little voice in my head (shh...don't tell anyone it's still there, LOL). Puffy eyed, unable to see the darned monitor, I was thanking my obnoxious typing teacher for the fact that I can find the keys without looking. That man was a menace, but at least he taught me how to type. A few days later, I got the journaling printed out onto paper for a layout. Here it is:
If you're actually reading this blog, that means you're probably interested, so I won't torture you and make you squint or try to blow it up. On the flip side, since the journaling doesn't seem to want to paste from Word, I'm also not going to torture myself or risk another meltdown by retyping it. It's not totally mean of me. You can find it here: http://www.scrapbook.com/galleries/203797/view/2993155/-1.html
And now, I am going to go drink a huge bottle of water and watch my new fave show, "How I Met Your Mother." For those of you out there who are grieving, too, I send you big hugs. It's a sucky ride, isn't it?