Pushing People Away

Do you ever do this?

I’ve seen myself do it sometimes.  I can’t say it is on purpose.  It’s not.  I thrive on social interactions, fun distracting conversations.  Yes, distracting.  Being with people is distracting from the pain.

But sometimes, I just don’t have the energy to be a good friend.   I see it in myself.  The lack of energy.  It’s not a lack of caring.  Inside my tired, grief-worn head, I sometimes am telling myself that I need to be better, but the lack of energy wins.

Why is grief so physically and mentally draining, even after 3.5 years?  I think that it is just the weight of it.  The weight is ALWAYS there.

I guess that is one of those things people who haven’t lost a child don’t understand is just how there is this heaviness.  It’s silent;  it’s invisible.  And after time, you’d think it would shrivel up and go away.  But it doesn’t.  Oh sure, I admit that sometimes the weight presses more than others.  I can almost forget it is there sometimes when I’m in the middle of a crazy day.  But it’s there.

There are days I just read messages from a friend, a friend whose life is still “normal” and whose family is complete and I just am too tired to respond.  There are days when I see a group of friends and I don’t have the energy to join in the fun.  There are days when I want to be a good hostess and I can’t muster up the enthusiasm to do so.    There are days I know I should talk to my mom about stuff, but I don’t.

I push people away.  Friends.  Good people.  People I care about.



2 Comments Add yours

  1. Judy says:

    I see another way of looking at this. “Pushing people away” sounds deliberate, when it isn’t. It seems cold and thoughtless – because they care about you. But you are not being cold and you do care about them.
    Instead, I see this as being a story about a bereaved mom who is in so much agony that it is painful to be with anyone who cannot imagine that pain. I remember well feeling cut-off from the world. Life went on for everyone around me when my world stopped. I couldn’t hear what they were saying and my head was screaming inside.
    I think it’s important to be extra kind to yourself. Caring friends are important. But being a caring friend to yourself is important, too.
    I learned that replacing thoughts that felt sad, helped me feel better. Tell yourself another story and you will see. Things will feel better.
    You’ve endured a horrific loss. Other bereaved parents know the pain, but cannot know the child you long for and that ache. It is one of the lonliest things to carry that. I feel for you.


  2. I so understand this post xxx


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