Sometimes, and you have to decide if it works , running away or curling up in a ball for a named period of time helps. I sometimes give myself 24 hours to wallow. Usually I feel able to deal with things better after doing so. That is grieving

So much love, Maria. I'm so sorry, for you and your dad and your uncle and all your family, and whatever anyone here can do to help you cope and function and vent and even give you a safe space to retreat to when you need it, we will do.

I also am wearing a dumping hat.

Strong isn't how you feel--strong is what you DO.

Which, it turns out, goes beautifully with my "Scrappy is wise" t-shirt.

But what if I actually do run away? It's not outside the realm of possibility. Then I'm not only weak, but a disappointment.

Oh, honey, no you wouldn't be. You'd be human and hurt and sad and that is all hard to bear and there's no shame in crumbling sometimes.

I know you'll do as much as you can for your father and your uncle and the rest of the family, but when you can't do anything don't hold that against yourself.

But what if I actually do run away? It's not outside the realm of possibility. Then I'm not only weak, but a disappointment.

No, then you'd be taking care of yourself and making sure you have some resources left when you absolutely have to cope. Trust me on this.

Maria, I am so sorry. There isn't anything I can say to make it better, but you are in my thoughts.

-t, I'm struggling with the force of my reaction in comparison to those of you who have suffered much greater losses. I'm scared that if I can't bear this pain now and it's just my uncle, what's going to happen when it's my father, or mother, or sister, or husband? I will break, and I won't be able to put myself together again.

edit: And Jilli, my god, how? It hurts, so damn much.

And I'm being incredibly selfish by not acknowledging that others are going through some lousy shit right now too. Please know that I am sending you as much strength and love as you've given me.

I've heard it said that a drowning person isn't selfish. You are drowning; doing what you need to do to draw in the next breath is not only reasonable, but right and good.

What eveyone said, Maria. And adding that admitting it is further proof of strength. If you can, work on letting the feelings flow over you - watch and describe them, but don't fight them.

But what if I actually do run away? It's not outside the realm of possibility. Then I'm not only weak, but a disappointment.

When my mom was so sick and when she was dying, I ran away, mentally, emotionally, a lot. There were days I called in sick to work just so I could stay in bed all day and not answer the phone. My sister ran away into her work; she has to travel a lot and those times, I came down to Virginia to see to mom and she was able to just leave and focus on something else. I don't believe anyone can be totally present all the time when something so bad is happening. If your mind, your soul, needs a break from the onslaught of emotion, there's nothing wrong with that. Taking the break lets you come back and continue to be strong.

I understand that fear, Maria. I'll be honest with you, I broke like a twig and I am not really put back together. It happens. But there's no way to prevent that if it's going to happen. Which I mean to be reassuring - it's not your fault, what's happening or how you feel about it, or how "well" you cope with it all.

I'm so sorry you have to work while dealing with all this. Get through today as best you can and keep breathing. Breathing is good.

I'm scared that if I can't bear this pain now and it's just my uncle, what's going to happen when it's my father, or mother, or sister, or husband? I will break, and I won't be able to put myself together again.

It is my belief that grief is a heavy load to carry. When it first is given to you, you feel as though you cannot bear up under it; taking a single step is so hard, and taking the next, and the next, and the next after that, is overwhelmingly difficult. It's all you can do to keep putting one foot in front of the other. And sometimes, you can't keep your balance, so you drop to the ground. But you get back up, and keep walking. Gradually, over time, it gets better - not because the burden becomes lighter, but because strength increases, making it easier to bear. Each grief is a separate weight. There is no comparing one to another. But after a new burden is loaded on to you, you feel a little more confident. When a new one is piled onto your back, you know that it is ok to stumble beneath it, that it is ok for it to take time to develop the muscles to carry the new burden. The confidence doesn't make the new burden lighter. The grief is not the less because of earlier griefs. But that confidence can make it a bit less utterly terrifying.