I have a name, but I'm also grieving.
I continue my days. I walk, and move, and mostly breathe. I do what I'm supposed to, I say what I'm supposed to, but I'm also grieving.
The world outside presses forward, presses onward, presses more. Hours then days, then days and months. Life continues, but I'm also grieving.
People stop asking, people stop talking, people stop bothering. I ask to be left alone. And then, I'm left alone, but I'm also grieving.
The days push me forward, but I don't want to push forward. The wind blows around my life, but I don't always feel like I'm living. I am here, but I'm also grieving.
I do the next thing. I get up. Then I do the next thing, and clean house. Then I do the next thing, and often I have no idea what the next thing is. And I just keep going, but I'm also grieving.
My goal is joy. I run as fast as I can towards the goal of finding joy. One day, I won't have to strive for the joy- I'll just finally be there. I am trying, occasionally failing, then trying again. But I'm also grieving.
I cling to anything routine, anything standard, anything structured. I cling to the truth of who I am, what God is preparing in me, and a slightest hope that will one day turn to joy. But I'm also grieving.