A quick, confused note on grief

There is nothing like the pain of losing loved ones that incites a raging guilt within me; one that shames me for not being religious, for not being more than my ‘logical’ and regimented beliefs. Or even, just a tad more spiritual. The hurt of craving some sort of relief in the midst of loss is unbearable and lonely and jarring.

I’m definitely more spiritual than not. Whether that is born out of desperation or out of belief is unclear in my head. What I do know is that my teenage and early twenties of black and white atheism was a form of rebellion against my upbringing, and perhaps a form of protection too. A way in which I didn’t have to believe that trauma carried a life lesson, and that I didn’t deserve an unhappy childhood. A free pass to circumvent a ‘higher meaning’, and accept that people were just sometimes, shit.

It’s so weird. I usually find so much comfort in looking at the stars, but tonight when I tried to console myself by gazing up and feeling small, I wasn’t met with that comforting feeling of ataraxis, instead, quite the opposite. It was that piteous feeling of pure and unadulterated hopelessness; the kind that makes loneliness feel like a warm summers day.

Written on 26th September, 2023 at 1:03AM, after losing two dear friends within a week.