I knew I needed to get help about the second month after the funeral. I moved out of my apartment, my family went home, I went back to work and it was the time I start life.

This time without Kevin.

Facing that reality somehow felt like a relapse. It got painfully quiet and I was left with my own thoughts.

All I know is one day I was driving home from work and I started uncontrollably screaming. I got home laid down and didn’t get up for 24 hours. I couldn’t stop smelling the funeral home. I couldn’t stop thinking he was going to come home to me. I couldn’t get out of my bed and face the reality of his departure.

I went to see my doctor that week. When I told him what happened he began to cry with me. I told him I wanted help. That I couldn’t live like this anymore. He gave me the name of a grief counselor and prescribed me an anti-depressant.

I know there is a lot of controversy about using drugs to deal with grief. I’m not here to say it’s for everyone, but I will tell you that it has helped me. It’s not something that prevents me from feeling the pain. I feel like that methodology is what leads to so many problems.

No, it helps protect my body from the stress grief brings upon itself. It keeps the levels of serotonin in my brain up and keeps my body working. Not many people talk about the physical side effects of grief, but it puts a strain on your body. You’re weak, you have no appetite, you can’t sleep and you’re constantly fighting a battle in your head. My hair literally started to fall out. That’s a disaster waiting to happen… I have a weird shaped head.

One pill is not the answer, though.

The biggest help by far has been the emotional surgery I do twice a month with my grief counselor. It is unlike anything else I have tried. Even just having her perfectly identify how I am feeling reassures me that I am not crazy.

She doesn’t tell me anything groundbreaking and like my medicine, she can’t stop the pain. She just helps me to make sense of the pain. She’s a safe outlet that I can trust to be completely raw and unguarded.

Eating healthy and exercise becomes that much more important too. You’re having to fight to want to eat, to want to take care of your body and overall, fight to live without your loved one.

Ultimately, that’s how I get to the good days. I fight for them. Physically, mentally and emotionally fight for them. Grief is a war to me. I want to arm myself with all I can to kick its ass.

Till Next Time.