From behind the cold glass

Apparently, I truly suck at conscious grieving. I can feel the heartbreak and sadness trapped in my body; my infected lungs hold down the feelings and only spontaneous, unlooked for sobbing allows release. I’d like to think it’s too tender to touch with intention but I’m not sure that’s true. Perhaps I’m afraid that in gently prodding it, I will awaken something I won’t be able to sing back to sleep.

I feel stuck. I can’t figure out how to go about this. I’ve come so far and done incredibly heroic work. Against all odds I have:
I’ve actively remembered and accepted horrific traumas and succeeded at taking the charge out of those events so they rarely trigger panic dissociation.
Ive done a tremendous amount of cognitive restructuring; I have identified automatic negative beliefs that kept me trapped in shame and fear, challenged them, and created alternatives that more accurately reflect reality.
I fostered the reset of my nervous system so I no longer exist in fight/freeze all the time.
I looked closely at my marriage and recognized that it no longer served me, so I compassionately ended the relationship and physically moved into a new home.
I’ve allowed myself to explore and feel the rage that has lived inside of my unexpressed for most of my life. It’s terrifying and empowering.
I’ve done my best to raise my children in ways that empower them to feel agency over their lives and bodies, and I’ve done the least amount of harm possible in terms of passing down the effects of my trauma.

Why, then, does it feel impossible to hold the immense grief?

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I look out my window through the white haze of snow. I can see the creek running high and fast over the rocks. I can hear the surge of water from the snow melt. It’s no more accessible than my grief. I feel both drawn to it’s power and cleansing energy but I’m loathe to put on my coat and snow boots and trudge through the heavy, wet snow to get to the cold creek. Part of me wants to strip down and walk out into the shock of the freezing water. I can imagine the jolt that would rush over my skin, the beat of my heart jumping into high speed, the sound of joy and surprise escaping my throat. It would be thrilling and life altering. But I will stay at my window and watch the snowflakes disappear into the foaming icy water. I will place my hand on the cold glass, feel the pull of the water but deny it.