Missing him is dark blue, all alone.

Today I was hit with a hard realization: it has been six months since I have lived without Alex. Six months since I've heard his voice, six months that I've been alone, six months of being sad. Most days I choose to think of how far I (we've) come, and how proud Alex would be of all those who he loves. But today I chose to be sad. I'm choosing right now to revel in my sadness - to take a few hours and feel the hurt. I feel like I'm constantly trying to be positive and it's getting exhausting. I hope think it's okay (healthy) to take a day to be selfishly sad - not even a day, just a few hours.

I'm finding it harder and harder to be understanding and level-headed lately, and I think it's because I'm using all of my energy on trying to become happy again. I haven't considered just being sad. I don't like to appear weak to my friends/family/co-workers - and I really don't want anyone to feel sorry for me. And so I've been "happy" when really all I needed was to be sad. I need to start realizing that some people are going to take it the wrong way - when I don't appear to be over-joyed by something, they will take it personally, when in reality, I'm just finding it hard to not be crying constantly. It won't be everyday, but on days (weeks) like today, I need to just be sad.

Grief is something that no two people experience the same way. It has no time limits, no rules, no right or wrong way. It's deep and it's dark and it's lonely - but it's okay. It's natural, and it's healthy, and it's something that everyone has to work through in their own way. Each time I sit and think about my "journey" through grief, my outlook is different is some small way. Which I suppose is a good thing. Change is a good thing and it's really the only constant in life.