Crash out

It's been two years since I lost DT. I hoped that by now the sharp edges of grief would have softened considerably. That the path forward would be clearer, with less unexpected emotional landmines. But if I'm being honest, the second year has been surprisingly, sometimes overwhelmingly, more difficult.

After the initial shock and the first year of "firsts" without him, I hoped that things would somehow magically improve. For me, it feels more like an unpredictable tide. Some days I feel strong, capable, and almost… normal. Then, out of nowhere, a song, a scent, a forgotten photograph, and I'm back in the raw, aching space of profound loss. The tears flow easily and a wave of sadness swallows me.

I've found myself feeling emotionally unstable in ways I didn't anticipate. One moment I'm laughing with friends, the next I'm fighting back tears in the car. My patience is thinner, my nerves feel heightened, and the smallest stressors can feel insurmountable. It's frustrating, even embarrassing at times, because a part of me believes I should be further along.

But grief doesn't adhere to a timeline. The second year, in its own way, brings a different kind of challenge. The initial shock has worn off, and the awareness of his permanent absence settles in even deeper. It's a period where the initial support might has dwindled, and I am left navigating the long, quiet aftermath.

This emotional turbulence is the hardest part of the grieving process, even two years after.

Everything bothers me right now. I can feel myself wanting to crash out.

I need a moment of stillness and peace 🥺