It’s so embarrassing to be such a mess over what amounts to nothing. And when I start to examine why I am so close to anger and tears lately it hits me–Birthday month. Charles’s birthday month. It’s April 26, 1995.

Tears threaten just beneath the surface ready to stream down my face at the slightest altercation, issue, or mishap. My frustration is so quickly triggered.

I remind myself there are worse things than not being able to find the right tool to open the top of the lawn mower. (Why the star shaped screws and not normal Phillips head ones?) My house has not been wiped out by a tornado. I have food and water. And no one is blowing up my city.

So I sit with it and let the tears come

I stop giving myself a hard time, I acknowledge the sadness, stop avoiding it, and let it in.

Relief comes after a good cry.

The only difference now is that I am less likely to reach out. I am more embarrassed that I feel so vulnerable, naked, angry, displaced, and miserable right now nine years after my son’s death by suicide.

This isn’t an everyday event like it was in the beginning. But back when it was people understood and I didn’t try to hide it. I didn’t care when it was raw. Now I battle with being too stubborn to follow my own advice and reach out.

I remind myself of that so I do talk to a friend who listens thoughtfully.

I don’t go into the part about feeling embarrassed, needy, and detached. I don’t want to be needy. I despise feeling needy. I also feel greedy taking up too much of the conversation.

It’s that old feeling that maybe no one would want to be around me if I talk to much about this terrible episode of my life. That fear of being left friendless due to what happened springs from the 6 months when everyone seemed to disappear and I wondered where everyone was, where the invitations went, and why no one was calling me. That fear of abandonment is so sharp still, that my breath catches before my lungs remember what to do again.

At times I need other humans to hear me

Which is perfectly normal.

After I followed my own advice and talked with a friend, I gave myself a warm bath after a hard workout as my self-care while listening to my audiobook because it’s the only format lately available from the library. I have to drive a lot these next two months anyway and the audiobooks have made long drives tolerable. It helps to get lost in a story that’s not my own sometimes.

Last month, I reached out to a friend who lost his daughter to cancer at age 7. He rarely talks about it but I know that even 20 years later, he goes underwater emotionally the whole month of March. He told me he has little reminders of his girl in drawers all around the house. That made me smile.

Charles’s birthday is still weeks away but that feeling of low energy is present to remind me that I will always walk with grief in my life. Sometimes it will be front and center. Other times it will be background noise. It’s just sitting in my lap right now. I think I’ll just cuddle with it.