I Swear You Will Be Fine

Dear Josh,

These few days have not been good apart from that one good moment that brought joy. I’ve been having bad dreams the past few nights. I don’t think you were in them, but you were mentioned and in those dreams, I was aware that you’ve left Earth. The first dream I had that is still stuck in my mind is one where I was attending a camp with my Primary school classmates. My bullies were there and I had everything you gave me in possession. I was the same age I am now, but I felt like the same bullied child I was years ago – scared but very angry. Throughout the entire dream, they were trying to take away the items you gave me, and I was screaming and screaming at them, and then getting scolded for screaming. It was awful. Primary school was half a lifetime ago, and I’m still having dreams about my bullies… Gosh. The second dream was worse. It was set in a house I had never been to, and everyone I loved was getting murdered. I was always either a step too late to save them, or helplessly watching them die. What the heck, right? In this second dream, you were the first person I lost. I remember screaming this guttural scream and it was only after that that I realized my family members were going too, and then my dearest friends. Needless to say, I woke up from these dreams feeling awful.

This letter was not originally about dreams, but I’ve accidentally written more than I thought I would. This next dream was sad too, but also a little happy. It was a dream set in 2024, and we were still friends. In this dream, I was texting you before going to sleep and we were talking about schoolwork and some petty gossip. Weirdly, I remember feeling sad in the dream before texting you, as if I was carrying the grief of you in my dream, but I went to sleep feeling excited for the next day because I’d be able to see you in school. This is quite similar to real life because back when we weren’t together, I still felt a lot of excitement to see you on school days because I liked you so much as a friend. The prospect of seeing a friend, you, who I could get along so well with made me excited to wake up. It wasn’t romantic yet back then. I just really enjoyed your company and the conversations we’d have. Anyway, in this dream, I felt that familiar sense of excitement and went to sleep. When I woke up in the morning, in real life this time, I still harbored that excitement, and it took me a second before I realized what had happened in real life – that you’re not waiting for me at school – and crashed. My mood dipped and I felt the heaviness of grief again.

It’s so weird because I actually physically felt it in that moment. When I was excited and happy, I physically felt light and like I could breathe again. And when I dipped, I could almost feel this crushing weight on my chest. And that crushing weight felt familiar. I think I’ve gotten so used to feeling grief that I actually forgot what pure happiness feels like. I don’t think anyone will understand what I mean if they aren’t grieving. It’s genuinely a physical sensation that I wish I could describe.

Although I’m fairly acquainted with grief by now, I’m still learning new emotions that I have not felt – which is honestly absurd to me in so many ways. I’ve been grieving for a full year now – more than a full year actually – so how am I still feeling new emotions? All these new emotions should have been felt one year ago, right? I see it in two perspectives – as a grieving girlfriend and as a person who’s strongly interested in psychology. As a girlfriend, these new emotions make me want to scream (again). As a person who is interested in psychology, I’m quite fascinated by the spectrum of emotions a grieving individual feels. In a way, I’m glad that I’m still able to take myself out of the grieving perspective and see it in a psychological light. You know what would make it more interesting? If you were physically here and we were observing someone else instead! Now I imagine you’re beside me as I experience these new emotions and going, “Huh, that’s a new one, isn’t it?” I don’t think I have the words to describe these new emotions, but I will try. I think other grieving individuals might be able to relate. It is also imperative to note that these aren’t all new emotions, but new perspectives too.

First, there’s Indignant. She’s an emotion I just got acquainted with. She’s kind of stomping her foot and pouting, but also frowning. Indignant visits me a lot when I’m alone in my room and whining about the absurdity of life. It’s also one of my new favorite words to describe how I’m feeling. Most days I’m feeling indignant, and she makes me feel like a four-year-old.

Then there’s Rumination. This one is tricky because I often confuse her with Reflection. The mildly irritating part is, Rumination isn’t even an emotion. She’s more of an action, like Reflection, except I’m not so willingly doing this. I’ve been trying to be more reflective lately, but Rumination kind of pushes Reflection aside and takes over. I end up overthinking everything I feel and trying to get to the “root cause” of my sadness. It’s kind of like I’m trying to be my own therapist, but it’s having adverse effects because I ruminate so much that my conclusion becomes “everyone hates me and there’s nothing I can do about it”. I feel like a teenager again when Rumination visits.

Then there’s Optimism. This one is surprising. I thought I’d introduce this new thought process. It’s not all positive though, because Optimism only visits when Pessimism visits someone else. Allow me to explain because it sounds silly without some context. When someone complains to me about a bad part of their day or how difficult their life is, I can’t help but think about the “brighter side” of things. The most recent example is a friend of mine who was sharing about how difficult it is to be a mum – fetching her kid from school in the hot sun, coming home sweaty and tired and having to cook for the family, doing loads of laundry, the house being full of children’s toys, etc. When I heard this, I validated her emotions by acknowledging that it is indeed hard. I do believe that it is hard, for sure. I’m not denying or feigning the validation I gave her. However, when I heard this, my mind also went to, “How nice it must be to be able to wait in the hot sun for your child to end school.” How nice to must be to have loads of laundry to do. It must mean you have many family members. How lucky you are to have a house full of toys! A house that’s too clean is never a happy house, isn’t it? It seems kind of lonely to have a house that’s always clean and neat – kind of means that no one is around? This version of optimism is often laced with envy. I wish I could have a child and a family to wait for, cook for, do laundry for. I wish I could have a house full of toys for my kid who never remembers to keep things in the right spot. In my case, Optimism walks hand-in-hand with Envy and Sadness.

There’s a lot of new emotions I’ve been feeling that I have yet to put into words. Sorry for this exceptionally long letter! I always think I will run out of things to write, but my ability to ramble sometimes amazes me too.

I can’t wait to see you again. I love you more, always, and forever.

Love always,
Sha