I had my first big break down today.
My first mental moment.
And I know it won’t be the last…
This morning I did my best to smash up everything I own. I didn’t get very far. I’m staying with my mum so I don’t have many personal possessions on me. What I did have was a lot of hair and makeup products which I threw at walls. Not nearly as satisfying as I feel breaking something would have been.
I totally lost it. One minute I was brushing my hair in my mums room, the next minute I’d gone crazy; punched every available surface and was effing and blinding my broken heart out.
I shouted at everyone to get away from me and get lost. At the top of my voice I announced, to probably the whole street, that I was ‘done with life’ because it was ‘too hard’. I roared and wailed and shouted as much as my lungs would allow and then I cried. I curled up on the floor and howled whilst trying to carpet burn my wrists.
I crawled into my room and repeatedly bounced my knuckles and wrists off the wall until I’d bruised most of my hand.
Then I got into bed with a framed photograph of Jonny pulled up to my chest and sobbed silently with every ounce of energy I had left in me.
I just wanted to feel something.
I needed to be angry and I needed to hurt because what I was feeling inside was too much.
I thought my mum would be furious at me for having a melt down, but when I eventually found it in me to get up again she just came and gave me a hug and we said no more about it.
I had read that people tend to lose it now and then during the grieving process but what struck me was how seemingly out of the blue it had come. I don’t know if I had been repressing something, not allowing myself to be as angry as I was or trying to stay dignified.
Whatever it was hit me like a train and bowled me over completely.
It took any glimpse of positivity, hope or future from within me and slapped me round the face with it.
It winded me, floored me and completely annihilated any rationality inside me in that moment.
My anger took everything from me.
And left me to fend for myself in the big wide world of adult emotions.
Worst of all? I feel like I didn’t let enough out, I feel like I still forced myself to try and stay restrained, trapped in my own messy mind.
I want to be angry, I desperately, desperately do. I just don’t know how to let it out. In a country where the ‘stiff upper lip’ approach has been shoved at us from all angles it’s no wonder most of us are bit loopy from the pain we keep locked up in our own heads and hearts….
Be angry, be whatever you want to be.
There’s no set way of doing things, I hold too much in expectation and that’s not how this works.
Grief is hard.
And it’s unpredictable.
And it pulls us down at our very worst.
But this is the process of loss, if it wasn’t this hard it would mean Jonny hadn’t meant all that much to me.
He was someone worth crying over and that sure as hell means something.