Things Learned From Grief

Hi there, my dear readers.  I am back.  Not in one piece, but back and swinging.

Grief, I am learning, is an awful beast.  Some days, I wake up and feel fine.  By the end of the day, I'm crying over little things that normally wouldn't bother me.  Other days, I wake up in a fog and remain there all day.

I'm up and down and all around.  I feel like a human merry-go-round.

All of which is supposedly normal.

(I would like to note that I have the best mom ever, who let me cry an ugly cry in the car today and just told me it would be okay while rubbing my shoulder.)

Anyway.

I'm trying to get it back together.  Yesterday, I picked up knitting for the first time in over a month.  I didn't do anyhing substatial except a row of random enterlac, but still.  It was something.

I have been doing other crafts, just for whatever that's worth.  I've discovered I enjoy coutned cross stitch.  And I love making cards and things.  Instead of journaling, I've been writing letters to myself on an almost daily basis, letters I plan on reading at the end of the year.

So I'm trying.

There's been so much sadness this month, though.  I mean, seriously.  I have spring PTSD, I'm sure of it.  This year, Grandma died, the Boston bombing happened, and the plant in Texas blew.  Last year, my boyfriend nearly committed suicide.  (He's safe and has been living with us since last April, and is doing so much better.  In a few years, I'm going to be very proud and happy to call him my husband.)  The year before that, my anxiety and panic attacks started.

Stuff needs to stop happening in the spring.

But there's a lot of good, too, my readers.  I have been made painfully aware of that too.  The sun is shining today for the first time in what feels like ages.  Family is closer than ever.  And, as we saw with the theater shootings, people at the Boston Marathon were helpers, running towards the wounded to help.

One of my favorite yarn bloggers, Rachael Herron, is doing a Boston Love Blanket.  I am going to make a square.  I haven't knit anything of substance since March, but if I know one thing, it's that helping others helps you.  If this can't get me back into my knitting, nothing will.

This month has also made me painfully aware of how short life is.  Grandma would want me to live it to the fullest.  And, like she and Grandpa, I want to be able to be around for a very, very long time.

So I've started a weight loss journey.  I would love for you guys to join me, if you want.  What made me do this?  On the trip to Missouri for Grandma's funeral, my mom noticed I stopped breathing in my sleep.  I've done it a few times since I got back.  It worries me, it worries my boyfriend, it worries my family.

 I'm not going to lie: I'm pretty overweight.  For my height and body type, I should weigh in at about 160 or so.  When I got back from the trip, I weighed in at 221.4 pounds.  That is the heaviest I have ever been in my life.  I'm 22 for crying out loud - I should be able to keep up, to breathe through the whole night, to be healthy and happy.

So far, I've lost 4 pounds by cutting out soda and most fried foods, and by working out for thirty minutes five days a week.  I've set up rewards for myself for each 5 pound mark I hit.  These are things like getting my nails done, going shopping, buying the foutain pen I want.  That sort of thing.  The goal is to lose 40 pounds by the end of the year, taking me down to 181.4.  I'm going to take pictures each milestone, then have a blog with it all at the end of the year.

What do you think?

I think life is short.  I think grief is hard.  And I think love will rule all.  I'm going to make each day count for something.  Join me.

~Meaghan

The Longest Road

The past few weeks have been a blur, my dear readers.

My grandma went into the hospital a few weeks ago.  She was released, only to have to go back to ICU a few days later.

She passed away Easter Monday, April 1st. 

This week we made the trip back home to the Midwest to tell her goodbye and lay her to rest.

I haven't been able to knit in all that time.  A little here, a little there.  But where knitting usually soothes me, it has been doing nothing for me. 

I hope this passes.  I know Grandma's in a better place.  It just sucks for those of us left behind.

That is all.