The other day, I had this thought:
Sometimes happiness, sadness, longing, anxiety, excitement, knowing, unknowing, trepidation, laughter, hesitant joy, hope, anxiousness, fear, familiarity, the past, the present, the possibilities, and the thrill of something new - are all simultaneously existing in the same conversation, the same moment even. That's grief, and that's what creating something beautiful out of the ruins looks like.
Welcome to the widowed life.
I find that the above has become typical for my brain since losing my husband to sudden death. I can simultaneously think 17 or 24 or 56 random, unconnected thoughts, all in the exact same moment. And often times, I am thinking all of these thoughts WHILE Im supposed to be talking to someone else. So, while the other person is talking about whatever it is they are talking about, my brain goes into this weird widow-zone, which is very different than "Widow Brain", and it conjures up this word jumble of every thought in the universe, all at the same time.
I dont really know if this is a negative thing or a positive thing, or neither. It might be one of those things in this widowed life that just IS - but it is extremely exhausting. I find that my brain now holds all of these conflicting emotions and thoughts, and it makes it very hard to seperate them and figure them out. They are all on top of one another, piled up in a giant mess, and I have to sift through them and break them down. But Im too tired, and I have to go to work, and I dont have time, and I dont much feel like it.
Im not really sure what the point of this post is, but I can tell you that while Im writing it, I also have 26 other distracting and unrelated thoughts in my head.