a grief encounter

t/w death and grief  It’s been a while since I’ve had a blog-worthy wobble, and over the last few months I’ve felt uninspired with writing in general. But the blank pages in my journal are probably a good sign, as there is definitely a correlation between my urge to write, and the weight of emotion I’m feeling. That said, I have missed the catharsis writing brings; there is something so magically relieving about the way it forces me to organise racing thoughts, articulating them word by word, as if stringing them in a line, rather than letting them swirl around in an incoherent chaos that I then find easier to suppress and bottle up. Essentially, the lack of writing has been down to the busyness of the last few months as I’ve been too distracted to make time for blogging and, to be honest, grief in general. As bizarre as it sounds, I’ve found myself going on a subconscious ‘grief strike’ as sometimes it boils down to the fact that most days I simply can’t be arsed to be sad. It is ...