The Chaos of Grief

The K├╝bler-Ross model is inaccurate and unreliable. There is no order in grief; only pure chaos. Surprising myself. Holding up. Not getting enough sleep. Not wanting to wake up. Not wanting to go to sleep. Longing. Sorrow. Unbearable sadness. Pretending. Pain. Pain in the chest. Pain in the stomach. Puking. Not wanting to be around people. Trying to be around people. Getting even sadder being around people. Disconnecting. Getting annoyed by everyone’s lives and social media updates. Getting off social media. Getting confused. Being intolerant. Being uncaring. Being numb. Being indifferent. Enjoying the curse words again. Being a lousier and a worse friend. Being selfish. Feeling happy then immediately feeling deeply sad. Loneliness. Self-pity. Not depressed. Anger, lots of it. Drinking. Getting irritated and angry so easily. Wanting to start fights. Being rude and mean. Violence and murder in my mind. Feeling guilty for being angry at a lot of people. Crying for no reason. Not wanting to cry anymore. Heavy heart. Darkness. Of course, I am okay. Binge watching TV series. Breaking down on weekends. Memory flashbacks. Losing purpose and meaning. Losing interest in writing. Losing interest in reading. Losing interest in any hobby. Losing interest in church. Losing interest in planning for the future. Losing appetite for color. Wanting to go away. Wanting to quit my job. Feeling empty. Feeling exhausted. Generally so lost. Having no idea what I am even doing anymore. Wondering why I seem to be wasting my life. Wondering what to do with my life. Accepting I will be alone for always. Expecting not to be cared for and not to be cared about. Expecting people not to like me. Expecting not to be loved. Expecting not to be missed. Being surprised and confused when people are nice to me or try to care for me. Forgetting. No home. Refusing to use the past tense in any sentences about my mother. Remembering my mother. Picturing my mother. Begging to be in a dream with my mother. Mamang. Self-care. Chris Evans. Aromatherapy. Just breathe. Show up. Continue. Hope. Life goes on. We all will die anyway.


Without You

Born from my grief are twins—
Happiness and Longing.

Happiness is the extroverted twin;
Longing the introvert.
Happiness is the Phlegmatic-Sanguine;
Longing the Choleric-Melancholic.

Some days I get oh, so happy
that my heart sings
and my spirit smiles.
But everywhere I go,
this heavy and deep longing follows.
They go hand in hand,
inseparable conjoined twins.

Happiness cheers;
Longing chants your name
like a prayer.
Happiness settles;
Longing never stops
searching for you.

They say a person is a home.
You are mine.
Happiness and Longing,
both are lost.
They search for home.
They search for a mother.
At the end of the day,
can they ever find rest?

Perhaps, it is us—
the ones who are left behind
who need the well wishes
to rest in peace.



You may not yet know what you want,
but you are clear on what you do not want.
That is close enough.
Keep filtering. Keep simplifying.
Let the good come through.

Book Notes: Here We Are: Feminism for the Real World

Here We Are: Feminism for the Real WorldHere We Are: Feminism for the Real World by Kelly Jensen
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I really like the diversity of this collection. Kudos to the editors who did a fantastic job at making sure this collection encompassed the varied aspects of feminism. Feminist voices are well-represented by all the admirable contributors to this book. I don’t agree with everything, but I admire the ideas, and the words and actions that go with it.

As a takeaway from reading this book, I now have greater respect for the church I go to. In a way, we are a feminist church. We have leaders and preachers who are women. At some point, we might have made some eyebrows raise by having women preach on a Sunday service pulpit. We are taught to submit to husbands and authority, but we are also taught to be warrior women. We are taught to be strong and are encouraged to speak, share, dream big, and when necessary, fight for our ideas. And for that, I admire our church’s mission, vision, principle, heart, and leadership even more.

Some important terms that stood out to me from this book are the following:
Equality. Gender. Representation. Misogyny. Ambition. Strong. Platform. Voice

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It Follows

This sadness knows no end.

Momentary happiness covers me in the day. But as soon as I find solitude, this cover leaves me. I undress and in the nude is my skin, and the sadness that inks it. This sadness marks me. It is present, like a second skin that shapes me. It is impossible to miss.

They say grief feels like walking around with a hole in your heart. I did not believe it. In my mind, holes in the hearts are for immature fools who cannot withstand heat and its reshaping. Today I stand corrected. I, too, now have a hole in my heart.

I walk and live and breathe in the day with a hole in my heart. A dark pit whose depth remains unknown and unexplored. A hole that is heavy and influences me with a deep sunken feeling. A vacuum that sucks me in until it aches. A physical attack that leaves me defenseless.

Happiness does not last, never throughout the day. In those brief and special moments, I cherish the happiness and I promptly speak my gratitude because I know the sadness immediately follows. Even when I have noticed the pattern, still the sadness catches me, wraps me, and spins me in its fingers.

In my solitude, Grief sits with me. Shares coffee with me. Accompanies me. Mirrors my every move. Uses its body language to let me know its attraction towards me. Sometimes it is a friend who understands my sadness, and consoles me for it. Sometimes it is a pressing boss who demands my attention by repeatedly stabbing me, which eventually manifests into a physical assault to the heart. I have to turn towards it. I have to face it.

This sadness knows no end. In the night, I still lie awake to nothing. A nothing so profound yet so dark, hollow, and heavy. Some nights, the weirdest dreams still haunt me and leave me waking to confusion and an insatiable longing. I continue to long for every thing that I am missing.

The days are long. The nights longer. The happiness brief. The sadness, the longing, the loneliness, the waiting, I do not know how it starts, only that it goes on.