Progress on the Project, Little for Myself.

It has been several months since I have updated this blog. Time continues to elude me. In this time, progress has become a complicated thing to answer. With some specific things, I’ve been making progress. With life and grief… well… not so much.

In these months since my last post here, I have simultaneously done much and nothing. I have helped someone to publish their book of poems. I transcribed their manuscript, did photography for it, and worked with the editors and publisher until the book was finally released a little more than a month ago.

Once my work in helping them was complete, it was time to return my focus back onto my next project. My own writing continued the entire time, so I added many new entries into the new book and continued to expand on the subjects I discussed within. I received my clinical feedback, which was complete approval, giving me the confidence to work on completing the book. As it stands now, the book is mostly done, and I’m working my way through it to make sure I’m ready to send it to the editors to begin the publication process. I’ve even designed the cover myself this time instead of just taking the photo.

That sounds like a lot, right?

While I have found progress on my projects, I have found next to none in life. I’m still here, handcuffed to this house and feeling the walls closing in. I am still paralyzed by the grief, dominated by the PTSD, and ultimately feeling like next to nothing has changed.

“It doesn’t get better, it just gets different.” With every month that passes, it feels more true than the last.

I still have to live one day at a time. I still find nothing but fear in looking beyond the next day. Long-term thinking is still a thing of the past. Joy is still a foreign concept to me.

The only semblance of satisfaction I can find is that I can still resonate with others who struggle in this hell. The closest I come to having a warm feeling still comes from being able to articulate what many of my fellow bereaved struggle to say for themselves. In doing so, I can help them, even if it’s in small ways at a time.

Grief isn’t something that can be fixed and the loss doesn’t get smaller. That’s not what I’m doing. What I am doing is helping others to grow around the loss, or at the very least, doing my best to resonate. In doing so, it helps others to feel less alone, snd that’s no small thing.