Now who do you think you are, puttin’ your cheap two cents in?

Don’t you got nothin’ to do ‘cept worry ‘bout my… stuff? Doesn’t quite work, does it?

But the sentiment still stands: people will have opinions as to what is best for you in terms of grief and how to handle it. But don’t worry about it. I listen but don’t absorb any of it. Because it is (well meaning) bollocks.

How you grieve is your business and nobody has any right to push you in another direction.

I can’t define how my grief looks. Maybe it’s too soon to know. I think I’m too lax with Ramona. I know that she’s grieving, too, and she started school in September.

She’s pushing her luck with me. I’m sure it’s to make sure that I’m still team Ramona, despite what’s going on. And that she can still get an… let’s call it ‘enthusiastic’ response from me.

But sometimes she doesn’t. Because I don’t have it to give to her. I want to, I can feel it but my body and brain can’t do it. I don’t have the space in my brain to bargain with her fury. So there were times I just let her get away with stuff. Her anger, her facety-ness, her rebellion and defiance.*

I feel my body retreat when she gets really out of order. It’s because I’m too tired. And also I know that if I lose my temper with her, I’ll be much louder than I want to be. I don’t have full control over myself yet so we’d end up shouting at each other. She already storms out of rooms, screaming, “I'M LEAVING” before slamming (or trying to slam) the door. I worry that I’d scream, “GOOD! I'M GLAD!” Which I wouldn’t mean, obviously. But I’d want her to hear it in that moment.

And that’s grief. That’s how my grief gremlin wants to control me. And there are other ways, too.

My balance is off. My memory is completely scrambled and I struggle to find the right word maybe 19 times a day. It was bad enough because of my seizures but this is something completely different. Apparently, they are common ways that grief comes out to play but that doesn’t really help in the moment.

But I accept it. This is just how it is.

So, if somebody says that I should just ignore it or not let it stop me from doing things, I wonder if they’d feel the same if I lifted the lid and showed them where and how grief is grating me raw. If I walked around with it totally exposed. I bet they’d shut up pretty quickly.

Self care is letting yourself grieve, no matter what that looks like.

If anybody has an issue with it then ask yourself whether or not that person should be in your life. If not forever, at least until the shittiest parts are over or you’re well enough to keep the rawest parts of you in your pocket while in their company.

Because it really is none of their business.

*why the hell, when we imagined what Ramona would be like, did we want a strong, argumentative child? Jesus. She’s the worst best thing that has ever happened. I feel sorry for us once she turns 12. I’m genuinely scared.