If you noticed that I’ve been posting less of my grief journey in recent days and weeks, you are correct in your observations. Rest assured, I’m not over it. Grief doesn’t work that way. I’m making my way through. Another significant stressor required my attention. I *think* that situation will improve after a breakthrough with a dash of boldness. That little rebirth of my being came out kicking and screaming. Phew. This is your reminder to always advocate for yourself.
Now to get back to it. Another sign I was not properly tending to my own healing: the physical manifestations. The horrible headaches. The insomnia. The fatigue. The brain fog. The random familiar and unfamiliar body pains. The anxiety. I’ve been telling myself for months now, “Feel the feelings. Cry the tears. Let it out. Don’t get sick.” Don’t. Get. Sick. You’ve got to process this stuff, folks. If you don’t, your body will remind you to do so.
I listened to a poop-ton of audiobooks about grief in the last 5 months. They are balm for my spirit as I face and embrace the aloneness that accompanies each day’s end. In the book “Understanding Your Grief: Ten Essential Touchstones for Finding Hope and Healing Your Heart,” Alan Wolfelt explains the difference between grief and mourning: “Grief is the constellation of internal thoughts and feelings we have when someone we love dies. … Mourning is when you take the grief you have on the inside and express it outside of yourself.” I find that so helpful in my understanding of all that’s happening for me right now. These writings = mourning. Aha!
I am going to get through this season, tending to my grief, mourning in this way, so that I may live out whatever remains of my own life as holey (with parts of my heart and soul gone), wholly loved by God, while doing the holy work of grief and mourning to encourage and inspire others making their way on their individual and adjacent grief paths.
Ummm, I think I just updated my life mission statement. 
Peace be with you, dear ones.