There are certain days, in grief, that you dread; their Birthday, Christmas, and other such anniversaries. When Valentine's Day drew near, I found myself surprised at the little amount dread that came with the thought of the day. Maybe it was because I live in a house with all girls who had no plans (Galentine's Day). Or maybe it also had to do with the fact that I always felt as if Valentine's Day was a particularly stupid day. Why? Because Taylor made everyday feel like Valentine's Day. Like honestly, he really did. The boy always made me feel special and loved. Sure, we'd buy each other presents and go out, but we felt like it was just an excuse to spend money on chocolate and flowers. So we'd always get creative. I'd just like to say, that last year, I got him pre-workout and a "Saturday's are for the Boys" flag. Ya. I'm amazing, I know.
ANYWAYS. So V-day rolls around and in my head I knew I should probably take some "me" time to write, read, pray, decompress and grieve (which includes lots of crying). However, instead of being diligent with my time, I ignored all the warning signs in my head that said I must allow myself to grieve. I said "I'm okay!", when in reality I was really just heavily distracting myself.
So, 6:00 pm rolls around. Galentine's Day was a smash, the food was delicious and the company was amazing. I should have felt energized and excited, old Sarah would have felt that way. Yet, I actually felt myself spiraling. Every song my housemate played over the speaker felt like a little prick on my heart. I suddenly began to feel emotionally heavy. I retreated to my room for some alone time, which is a little impossible if you have a roommate (love you, Sarah).
At 6:30 pm I sat on my bed ready to put my shoes on and head out to church. But I suddenly found myself swallowing down the anguish that began bubbling up in my chest. I felt as if I was trying to swallow stones. I had never pushed myself to this breaking point before, and I honestly thought I could take it. Until Sarah (yes, my roommate is name Sarah as well) looked at me from across the room. "Are you okay?" Nope. Grief wave. Tsunami hit. TKO.
I think I was more frustrated with myself more than anything, because I thought I knew my limits, when it turns out I truly do not. However, more than that, I knew what I needed and I didn't make time for it. At the end of the day, when I finally sat down and allowed myself to grieve, I grew. I laid it before Jesus' feet and I moved through it instead of allowing the heaviness to continuously weigh me down.
What I truly needed was two things: 1. To allow myself to grieve. 2. To take time to grieve. When you do those two things, it somewhat gives you a chance to understand how you feel and why you're feeling it. It gives grief a name (because sometimes we do forget that it causes unforeseen emotions) and it allows you to process through. Sometimes you need more time than you think and sometimes you just need a few minutes. There is no formula. But I can assure you, that when you allow yourself to grieve in a time and space that is right for you, you will be healthy. And that time also means that you can't get stuck in it either. Jesus wouldn't want you to be laying around crying all day, you've got people to love and save, in His name.
So, that's my current advice that I am learning to dive into. Grief is not something you can put a box around. I don't ever think that I will grasp a full understanding of it either. But I do know, now, that being distracted doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt. And time and allowance are the best things that you can do for yourself. Listen to the Holy Spirit and your emotional needs.