Two Margot's

 I've been thinking about appearances lately. I think at this stage of my grief, I have more trouble talking about my feelings. I have less trouble talking about the facts. It's like there are two of me; a person of personal feelings and a person of appearances, of the facts. 

My expectation and one I sometimes get from others, is that past a certain time, I'm not supposed to cry  in front of people. I'm supposed to be more put together. Some days I feel more...regulated or a word I love that is used with horses; collected. Collected means all four feet underneath; like balanced but better because you're moving. 

Some days I don't. I feel the pain is my container. I feel dysregulated. And in this month of birthdays; mine, my daughter's and my son's; my feelings, my grief come and goes at  random, variable, in other words, unpredictable ways. 

As I see the world expecting a greater level of collected, I see myself holding in, containing the Margot that is in pain. Just writing these words makes me slightly angry at myself and the world. Life is not tidy. It's messy, chaotic unpredictable. I shouldn't have to split myself into pieces. I'll work on risking disapproval, judgment...my own as well as the world's.