Frustrated in Manassas

I am so frustrated. More than frustrated, I am angry.

Grieving has become less about my mother and more about me.

I have been told that in order to process my grief, I need to talk about it. But with whom?

Friends are uncomfortable around me. They don't want to listen. They don't know what to say.  I haven't heard from one of my closest friends since my mom died. Another said she would be available to talk Christmas Day. I haven't talked to her since the funeral. People just hope that I am OK. I think that makes them feel better.

My husband doesn't know what to say. He doesn't know what to do. He has lost a parent, but he grieved before his father's death. His father's death was a relief, an end to his father's suffering. My husband doesn't talk about his father much.

Talking about my mother makes my father sad. As one well meaning co-worker told me, "Don't rely on him. He'll be gone, too."

Grief counseling? It took me nearly two months to get an appointment. My counselor can only see me twice a month because she doesn't have many "late appointments."

Grief support groups? Groups have already started or are scheduled during the work day. The next sessions begin in April. I was matched up with a volunteer from a support group, but I never received an email from her. We talked once on the phone, but our plans fell through.

It has been suggested that I take time off of work to process my grief. How do I do this? By talking? Tried that. (See above.) By crying? I've done that too. I could use the time to attend to things I have neglected, like my laundry, my health.

Grief doesn't realize that I have students to teach and SMARTR goals to reach, meetings to attend, beliefs that I need to shrug off so I can teach standards instead of children. Watching literacy take a backseat to technology, testing and gifted education. Teaching the way I am told to teach rather than teaching the way I should teach is so much harder when you are grieving.

So here I sit. Typing. Not talking to anyone except a counselor. Twice a month. It's not enough.

The only person I could talk to is gone. And I need her more than ever.