Lost in Grief

It’s been a while. My stepfather died a week after my last blog post and I just stopped writing. The motivation and desire seemed to disappear. I felt lost. Ironically during the time since is when I should have been writing. Too many emotions built up and there was a bottleneck in the flow of them. Writing them out most likely would have been the therapeutic solution and I would not have been gone so long.


I have written blog posts in the past describing deep, painful and raw emotions, usually without hesitation. Why was writing about the feelings surrounding my stepfather’s death so difficult? How did I get so lost so easily? Truly experiencing grief is my conclusion.

Several times it has been suggested that I need to grieve what I lost because of the abuse, not just in general but specifics. For example, I cannot just say I need to grieve the loss of my childhood, I need to specifically grieve the fact I learned about oral sex as a 3-½ year old, that bath time was usually terrifying and safety became a foreign concept.

Knowing I need to grieve these things and others seems daunting, unfamiliar. I have never grieved any of it. I could define it if asked but had never really felt grief, especially an overpowering grief, until my stepfather died.

My stepfather was the closest person in my life to die and it was unexpected. The numbness and shock took over when I had to face the reality he was not going to make it through surgery and it carried me through the next day. The few days following were a blur of family arriving, shopping for “funeral” clothes, and service arrangements. In the midst of it all I allowed myself to cry, a privilege I rarely give myself. I felt the impact of the loss. I chose not to stuff my feelings and tears. I fought through the desire to isolate myself and just hide. After his service I lost it. I actually sobbed without shame, laid it all out and did not hold back. I felt better and released if you will. I experienced grief and finally understood what it meant, raw emotions that have to be experienced in order to move forward.

I am still of course grieving his loss but I do not feel like I have held anything back. I have faced it head on many times. I wish I could do this with my childhood abuse.

I did not realize the extent of what I lost to the abuse until I became an adult in the midst of recovery. By then I had become an expert at denying and stuffing my feelings. They were dormant for so long, undiscovered and uncomfortable. Prying them loose is tough and I am fearful of their power.

Grieving a death is expected, appropriate and usually timely. Grief over my childhood is hard to reach. It is in the past and grieving seems out of place this far removed from the physical part of the abuse. At the age of my abuse I was not able to comprehend what was happening to me much less the emotions surrounding it. All the confusion and overwhelming feelings were packed away. There was no time to cry. No time to realize that my life would be affected for the rest of my life. No time to grieve what was happening.

How do I reach it? What steps or actions should I take to really feel the losses and not just name them? I must find a way to connect feelings with facts in order to keep taking steps forward. How am I supposed to grieve these things so far out of time? I wish I knew.