Dare I Say...?

My major depression is lifting.  Slowly, but it is.  I've mostly been having days of the low tides of grief with an occasional, yet painful, high tide thrown in.  

Every time I journal of things being bearable I worry that those who read this will think that I am better.  Why do I always feel the need to include this disclaimer?  I guess I need to assure people that I am not yet OK - not to close the door on praying for me & my healing...that I cannot have healed from the most tragic loss in just 7 months.  As I write this, part of me thinks if the world reads this and thinks that I am "better now," that it gives the world permission to move on from Ethan.  To forget him.  And I am not OK with that.  So consider yourself educated, I am still a hot mess.  

I don't spend my days crying endlessly anymore, not usually at least.  The shit days are punctuated with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder freak outs (thankfully that's only happened 3 times recently) rather than the physical and emotional hangovers that result from a sobbing binge.  (By the way, that's how I lived my first 3-4 months after Ethan's death.  It was awful.  Rather than using the cloth diapers as burp clothes for Ethan I was using them to catch my tears and runny nose.)  

Most days I am able to attend to the day-to-day activities of my family, and enjoy them.  Genuinely.  Early on I remember moms whose babies had died years prior had told me things would change somehow, and I believed them.  Believed them because it wasn't possible for someone to live in that misery of acute grief & shock.  But now I think I might be wading into healing waters.  I'm not sure how I got here, but I'm here.  I can look forward to date night with Josh.  Have a great time with friends at dinner.  Be excited about settling into our new home.  I can feel all of these things fully.  

At the same time I am feeling positive emotions I am simultaneously feeling sadness.  Envy.  Longing.  Anger.  The grief is still there, both beautiful and ugly.  I don't want to avoid my grief, it's a forever journey.  As my love for Ethan lasts, so will my grief.  I am at peace with this reflective nature.

I no longer feel like I am faking it.  Dare I say the light in my eyes might be returning?  I think it might be.  Flickering.  And that's a start.