Grief is strange. Not at all how I imagined it.

For instance, I’ve developed an aversion to going into Houston. I didn’t realize it until a friend suggested we visit a museum downtown. The thought set me into a panic, but I didn’t know why.

In the middle of the night, I woke and realized I can’t go anywhere that connects me to Bill’s memory.

I tried to drive through Houston the other day to reach the north side and visit his memorial site. I went the wrong direction. I hit roadblocks. Someone nearly hit me and it began to rain. It was as if the was universe was saying, “Don’t go there right now.” So, I turned around and came home. 

Grief has paralyzed me from traveling to Houston. 

My cousins wanted to visit me in April – something I’d looked forward to since I moving to Galveston. We began making plans. Then they called to confirm dates before booking travel and I panicked. I couldn’t do it. Why? I’m not sure. It just felt overwhelming. So, I told them not to come. 

Grief has paralyzed me from enjoying company from out of town. 

When Bill first passed, 90% of my income stopped. I was sure I’d end up on the street. I began looking for a job, cutting expenses, and reading everything I could about saving and investing. 

Should I leave my beautiful new apartment?  Stay here and get a job? Start a home business? Maybe I should move somewhere cheaper – off the island or even out of state? 

Now, almost two months later, I see my finances more clearly. I am financially strong. I have less, yes, but it’s more than enough for my needs. There’s no need to panic. I can stay where I am and enjoy a good life.

And yet I woke in the middle of the night worrying about spending too much money on a Sam’s Club order and how I could return it on my way to see Bill. 

Oh, I don’t do that anymore. 

Grief has paralyzed me from thinking logically.

They tell me this will gradually pass, and I believe it will. In the meantime, I have a message that pops up on my phone every day, “Don’t make any decisions.” 

So that’s what I’m doing—making no big decisions. Taking one day at a time. Waiting for my heart to heal. 

That’s what grief is.