The Truth Behind My “I’m OK”

I thought I was okay… until I cut the tip of my finger off. You could say it was the tip of the iceberg that cracked me open and let the tears flood out.

Losing my father so suddenly shook my world. I went into doer mode. I like being in charge. Knowing what to do makes me feel in control. And control has always been something I’ve chased in my life. I was a bit of a rebel growing up. I didn’t like being told what to do – actually, if you told me to do something, I’d probably do the opposite. But that’s a story for another day.

So there I was, peeling an apple with a brand new, super sharp peeler, when I sliced the tip of my pinky finger right off. I couldn’t stop the bleeding.

Here’s something important to know. My dad died sitting at his kitchen table, bleeding to death. Completely different circumstances, of course. But when I saw my blood pouring out, it triggered something deep in me. I couldn’t stop the bleeding, and I couldn’t stop what was bubbling up inside me.

I’m not someone who really shows emotion. Growing up, anger was the only emotion I knew how to express. And while anger is part of grief, it didn’t fit this moment.

I couldn’t get the bleeding to stop, even overnight. So off to the ER I went, with a throbbing finger and a broken heart. Sitting there waiting, blood running down my finger, tears running down my face… I realized I wasn’t really there because of my finger. They didn’t even need to stitch it – just extreme pressure. And not the kind of pressure I’ve been putting on myself since my dad died. The pressure to hold it all together. To be perfect. To do everything for everyone.

Everybody grieves differently. There’s no timeline. For me, grieving isn’t even the right word. It’s more like numbness. Parts of me are still numb, but other parts are waking up… feeling things I might be feeling for the first time.

Of course, I know joy. I know sadness. I’ve felt all the basic emotions in my 62 years. But this is different. This comes with the understanding that I’m now an orphan. It sounds strange to say at my age, but it’s true. And it’s an odd, lonely feeling.

Don’t get me wrong – I’m not alone. I have my family, my sons, my grandsons, and my husband.

I’m not going to pretend I have it all figured out. I’ve spent the last month and a half telling everyone I’m fine. I’m also not going to burden anyone with the deep pain and sadness I feel. Instead, I’m going to do what I do best. I’m going to go quiet. I’m going to go within. I’m going to sit with God, Source, Creator, and heal myself – physically, mentally, and emotionally.

I don’t know what this healing journey will look like in the long run. But right now, I know one thing for sure:

I can’t afford not to do it.

So for now I’m here feeling it all, one breath at a time.

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With Love,

Vee