Isolation

Is isolation even a part of the grieving process? I don't believe so. It should be. Maybe because it's a complex term that can be broken down into different variables or maybe it's a sign of a deep-seated issue working its way to the surface. Regardless, isolation provides a sense of comfort when you are mourning. At least for me, it does. It's a bit absurd considering typically people can provide a distraction. Isolation right now is protection. Protection from the outside world. Not because I don't enjoy the camaraderie of others. More so that the camaraderie scares me right now.

I've never been the type to enjoy being the center of attention or conversation. Don't get me wrong, I always raised my hand in class, volunteered for opportunities that would cause me to be a moral compass for others, but when it comes to the sincere attention of others, get me out of here. Right now at least. For example, I'm nearing the drop-off for the kids at gymnastics. A comfortable situation because I don't have to step outside my bubble. Then I get a text from my husband wanting me to stop at the grocery store. Every piece of me, down to the cellular level, shivers in a panic. I asked myself, can I really do that? By myself? I told my daughter I needed her hat. It's -4 degrees outside and I took my daughter's hat off of her head so I could be a bit more unrecognizable. Hopefully, she forgives me for that. The entire 2-minute drive to the grocery store I am seeing my son's nonreactive pupils in the hospital on January 7th. I traveled back in time in 2 minutes, 120 seconds. It was the real tunnel vision people talk about. I felt that. The tears came along with the quick breathing. The kind of breathing that doesn't go deep enough and doesn't exit completely. I parked, wiped at my face, pulled my daughter's hat down as close to my eyes as I could and zipped up my coat. My pace resembled that of a woman late to work. Obviously, not the case, but in and out was my plan. I got in and out. I did it. I didn't think I could but I did.

Does that mean that my impromptu and unappreciated grocery store trip means I am over this isolation business? I doubt it. I suppose it's a small step in the right direction. It's not my husband's fault. I didn't discuss this anxiety with him. I did, however, alert him to the fact that I don't want to go into a store alone. When you are alone, people are more apt to approach you. I don't want to give others the opportunity to approach me. This sounds cruel. I don't mean it to be cruel. Approaching me just brings tears to my eyes. Usually, tears that I just got rid of. Reconciling this in my head assures me that I am ok. I know what I want right now and I know what will tip me over the edge. Currently, isolation is my jam.