Grief is an unpredictable beast. There are stages, but they aren't linear. Even when you get to acceptance it can circle back around. When Declan died, I immediately jumped to the anger stage. I couldn't sleep unless I worked myself to exhaustion. I started running just a week after the loss and put in 100 miles that month. Running was therapy, and I did a lot of it, logging 300 miles in just over 3 months when I was surprised to discover I was pregnant again. That's when I realized I just couldn't go another mile and took a long break.
Then when Lucy died, too, I was completely depleted physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. I'm not sure how I made it through the last few weeks of school, but I was on the brink of collapse at the start of Christmas break. I was definitely in the denial stage; I was too tired to even think about my losses.
I'm finally starting to feel physically recovered. So of course, it's time to move out of denial. This week my grief hit me hard again. I'm feeling very raw.
I started running a little at the beginning of the year. For today's 10 mile long run, I really pushed myself. Harder than I should have. I just couldn't slow down, or I might collapse into tears and not be able to get going again.
Tonight our church has a special worship service. I fully expect to cry through most of it. After my first two losses, I used to try to fight back my tears. Now I let them out. This is where I am right now, and I don't feel the need to hide it.