The three dinner tables are no longer here.


When every part of you is being stripped away because you are grieving it takes a long time to see what part of you is coming back and what part of you is new.

Sometimes no parts come back.

You get completely stripped away.

And for a while you have nothing.

You are empty.

Confused about yourself even.

Slowly you start to see new parts find their way to you but they are not easy to adjust to.

Often you don’t like the new you.

And you reject yourself after loss.

You wonder, where the heck did this new part come from?

It has nothing to do with how you were.

I used to have so many friends.

A lot of friends.

I would call and talk to them every day.

I would host dinners. Parties.

I was social.

Then everything happened.

I tried to keep my social self for as long as I could.

And I held on to her.

But as the years went by I became the opposite of social.

The opposite of dinner parties.

I was confused.

I didn’t want to be this new person.

I mean come on. I used to put 3 tables together at dinner so they could fit all the friends and now I didn’t even want one table to set.

Some friends did not like this new part of me, they thought it was about them.

They had no idea.

Not only did I become a loner but strange.

Weird in many ways.

It wasn’t just my friends who found it odd, but my family too. They still do.

As the years went by I let go of the old parts more and more.

And for the first time in probably ever I started to get to know me.

And this is the biggest surprise of all.

I think the woman who is coming through is the woman I was born to be.

We all live these very routine based lives and then something happens and any fakeness or pretenses go out the window.

Grief shakes you so much and in such a prolonged way (I have a visual of being held upside down as I am writing this) that it destroys the fake parts.

It eradicates the bullshit (sorry) and what you are left with is the weird kid you never dared to be.

And now well, now I sit here slightly smiling.

Because for the very first time I find myself thinking that maybe just maybe I am not weird but kind of cool.

That I get to live the remaining of my life doing stuff that most people would never let themselves do.

You see, they were not held upside down shaken by grief for years.

And even though the shaking sucked (I am using some foul language today sorry) it led me back to my own DNA.

And now that I no longer need to be turned upside down for this to happen I get to enjoy the weird cool stuff that I got from all the shaking.

But you are still not invited for dinner ha.

But I am finally able to understand myself.

I know you have been held upside down and shaken by grief and you might even be reading this letter from that place.

But I am here to ask you to be ok with the weirdness.

To let the confusing parts in and the shaking will lessen.

The more we reject who we are becoming the more it feels like an earthquake that doesn’t end.

Let your weirdness be.  Let her in. Let her show you things. (Click to Tweet!)

And oh my, I mean… oh my.

With weird words always,

Christina

P.S. You see even the title of this letter is strange. But I couldn’t help myself. 🙂

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Christina Rasmussen

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