I am falling apart…

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BEFORE YOU READ: This post reflects on grief and loss. Please take care of your heart and well-being; and read only when you’re ready and feeling up to it.

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Maybe this part of my journey is about falling apart.

Earlier this year when I decided to return to therapy and see a psychotherapist, I did not know it would be one of the best decision I've ever made, would ever make—though I didn't realise it then.

It’s why I’m still here.

My dad passed away.

And in the last two months, grief has consumed me, and it endures. It’s like I’ve come apart and am unravelling in the most revolting way imaginable.

I feel like I’ve been in a state of prolonged grief since 2019, and I’m wondering when it will ever end. And the added heartbreak of losing my dad has made it so immense. So crippling. Too much to put up with.

But as an adult in this society, the most challenging thing has been to show up, no matter what, because it’s a necessity. Because I am required to. And I’ve had to keep moving on—sad, in mourning, and with a general lack of interest in life. Since life is indifferent, it doesn’t pause, nor stop.

Some days, I want to stay in bed with the covers pulled high. Refusing to face the day. But I don’t. I just do the little things to take care of myself. Small comforts. Here and there. To keep myself existing.

I am trying. I don't want to—which means: survive.

I do this all day. Every day.

My spirit is crushed. I am not a functional human.

My life has lost all its colour.

Maybe it's more gruelling because my dad stirs up complicated, intense, and messy feelings within me. And beyond the hurt, heartbreak, and pain of losing someone I love, it’s made worse by the dehumanising and undignifying way I’ve had to mourn him.

I am drowning in this malaise, and though I don't relish it, I won't apologise for it.

I’m unwilling to commit to anything or anyone.

I’m only giving myself to my day job, simply because I have to pay my bills. And for my shopaholism, which is out of control by the way.

I've always turned to self-isolation for self-preservation when dealing with bad times. It’s even more pronounced nowadays. I’d love to vanish from the sight and thoughts of all beings and things.

I just want to be fucking left alone.

Unless I decide I don’t want to, or choose not to.

I’d prefer not to be asked anything; maybe just a “How are you”, with no obligation to answer. And just saying "I'm okay" is acceptable—it should be enough.

I'm not interested in questions about my life. Anything happening in my life. I do not know. It does not matter.

I don’t like anyone or anything, especially not myself. I find only my therapist likeable—I’m privileged to have access to and afford therapy.

I simply want to be on my own.

This phase of my life is wearing me down, stretching me, shattering me, and both I and my world are coming undone.

Maybe this is how it has to be, the destined nature of this season, and how I should feel is exactly as it is right now.

It’s just hard. Quite heavy.

Therapy has been my only recourse since I have trouble with sitting with my feelings. Talking about them has been what has kept me mentally healthy. Here.

Nothing will ever be the same. I know it. I will never be the same person again… and I am resistant.

For the time being, at least.

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Anchoring Words

Dear you:

You’re still here.

You still ache.

You don’t need to be whole.

You are allowed to rest.

You are allowed to sit with it. You don’t need to tell it to leave.

You are allowed to simply be, in your own. Not in the way the world dictates—with its noise and demands.

With so much suffering and tragedy in the world, even though I'm hurting, I realise my grief is small compared to others, and I am privileged. There are injustices and inequalities in the world, so I am mindful that not everyone has the means to grieve or access the support and resources to cope with loss, so I don't take that privilege lightly.

If you're currently navigating grief, you may find comfort from support resources such as:

• Cruse

• The Grief Gang

“Grief is not my adversary. It’s my love’s echo, finding somewhere to go.”