Day 8: Do you feel you have more good days than bad ones?

I guess the answer to that question depends upon the time period under consideration. And the definition of a good day.

For the purposes of this blog post I am defining a good day as one where I can carry on my "normal life", involve myself in general chit chat, laugh at the children around me, take interest in life outside of my immediate sphere, offer support to my friends and generally appreciate all of the blessings i have received.

As for the time period in question:

If you mean have I had more good than bad days in the 83 days since Melinda died, then the answer would be a resounding no.

If you mean in the last fortnight... the answer would still be absolutely not.

If you mean the four weeks that came before the start of the last fortnight then I'd probably say the good and the bad days were about even. Maybe even the good days were starting to win

You see that's the thing about grief, I can be going along thinking I'm doing really well; I'm processing my loss, transcending it even. I'm thinking of my children with love instead of intense sadness, I'm no longer feeling a belly full of rage at the injustice of it etc etc... and then something happens. Something upsets the status quo and the wave of grief builds, washes me off my feet and then dumps me unceremoniously head first in the centre of the ocean. And once again I am lost at sea and it takes a while to get my bearings. Meanwhile I am desperately treading water trying to keep my chin above the water, slipping below the waves once or twice and wondering if i have the strength to make it through this. Eventually I realise I can just stop moving and float, allowing my friends and supports to bouy me up, Allowing the grief to gently rock me until i find i have found my bearings once more and can start swimming to shore. Once on shore I strike out full of purpose, but wary of the ocean ever at my heels. Until my confidence builds and once again I start to feel like I'm doing okay.

I am learning how to navigate my grief.
Sometimes I even manage to avoid being knocked off my feet at all. I can feel the ground starting to fall beneath my feet and I find away to re-adjust the load and step onto more solid ground.
Sometimes I can feel that the incoming wave is too big to fight and I need to allow the grief to take me along for the ride, not fighting it. Just letting all the feelings and emotions wash over me until the pull lessens and I head back to shore.

I am hopeful that in time, the periods of panicked flailing, where I am lost and struggling, will be spaced further apart and I can become friends with my grief, with the give an take that goes along with all good friendships.