The effort of socialisation

My friend Sarah wrote a blog post, Imagine, in which she listed different things you could imagine in order to better understand the life of a bereaved mother. While I feel like I could have written so much of the list myself, one in particular stood out:

Imagine a grief so great that the effort of socialisation seems overwhelming. Imagine trying anyway.

That, right there, is my life. And it seems foreign to me, even after 11 weeks. I used to absolutely love being around people, I thrived on it.! If I was home by myself for a few days, with nothing planned, I would go mad! But now I'm the opposite. It's such an effort to make myself go out. Even to places that I love, like my church. It's overwhelming for me to contemplate going places, and I think it's because, most of the time, there is always going to be the 'one person'.

One who doesn't know.
One who tries to make me feel better.
One who doesn't talk to me.
One who looks at me with pity.
One who inadvertently says or does something that hurts.
One who has a baby...

But, even though it's overwhelming, I still try. Because although there is normally 'one person', there is always 'the other one'.

One who gives me a hug.
One who lets me grieve.
One who asks how I am.
One who asks how my hubby is.
One who prays for me.
One who wants to see photos.
One who lets me grieve.
One who mentions Ariella's name.
One who tells me they loved her too.
One who tells me they miss her.

As you can see, the second list is longer. And that's why I force myself to go out, even when it's the last thing I feel like doing. I don't always stay the whole time, nor will I always be actively involved. So if you see me standing off to the side, it's ok. Sometimes just being in a room with others is enough of a challenge, yet alone talking to people! But to everyone who has been 'the other one', thank you. You make socialising a bit easier, and for that, I am grateful.