Did I excuse everything she said with "we're different"?
Maybe. I think everything you folks said was right on the mark. And I think at some point, she's going to feel this loss intensely. Maybe she's intellectualizing it or something now.
In my family, I'm the feeler. We spent hours in group therapy when my mom was dying trying to figure out how to work together, to come together. Because I felt things, painful things, and expressed my feelings (often through tears) I made others uncomfortable. They thought of it as falling apart. Actually being weak. I'm not exaggerating when I say I think it was a revelation for multiple family members when the therapist said that it was actually a demonstration of strength. To get it out. To express it. And then, after I got it out, I could go on. I actually *was* strong. I didn't fall apart, like they all thought I would.
But now, it seems, I have fallen apart. Or rather, it hasn't been so easy for me to just get it out, get it over with and go on. Which would make everyone much more comfortable, I think. I wonder if they are thinking that I have actually fallen apart. Sometimes I think my dad understands. But I know I make him uncomfortable, especially when I go on about how I won't pretend to be okay for my grandmother when she calls. I think he's struggling to trust that I haven't gone to pieces like he always feared I would.
I fucking hate all this family dynamic shit. And I wonder how much is my projection. Because for a long time I bought into the whole S___ is weak because she cries thing. Hard to let go of. I thought I had, but everything regresses in times of stress.
No, I won't excuse the inappropriate comments. I will try not to accuse, either, though. I will just try to take care of myself. And I think that involves distance for a while.
It occurs to me that, after the initial fallout from our conversation, I am actually mad. I'm mad because it seems there is little acknowledgment (from some corners) of just how far I've come since January. That I actually *am* doing better. I didn't even realize it. Just surviving this. As lousy as I feel. As stricken as I am. Recognizing the enormity of our loss. The enormity of the pain. And while I am not "back to normal" (and will never be) I am living through this. I'm getting through it.
And I am not stuck.