August had me hovering over myself. As the month passed and September moved on, I found myself slowly getting back into my body. The susto I experienced was appreciated, as it allowed me to slow down and be still in the intensity of my emotions. The downside was that I also had some critical voices reverberating in my head. Old messages of how I wasn’t grieving right irritated me like a determined fly. I realize how silly it sounds to think that one cannot “grieve right”. I couldn’t believe that I was thinking this myself. But there I was, thinking that since I felt out of my own body I somehow was being weak.
When I have these “you’re not doing it right” thoughts, I know that it’s my dad’s voice. My siblings and I grew up with his criticisms, and no matter how hard we tried, or how “right” we thought we had it, whatever we did always felt short according to him. His way was the right way. The slightest difference mean that it was worthy of being tossed in the trash pile. At least that it felt to me.
With some help I was able to process and move through the old messages. As the days went by I began to notice that my body was hurting. It was funny really how my body pains reminded me just how much I had been detached from my own self. So, I guess I’m back, and damn, it kinda hurt!