My grandma was the queen of stoicism. When my grandfather died, she quipped, "he's better off," when I tried to tell her how sorry I was that she was alone. No emotion allowed. No depression. No grief. It was considered grown up and mature to be thus. And I was pretty good at it for many years. Not much could rock me. I had come up through a rough life, and I was adept at adapting and going on.
However, for me, when my grandfather died, I came face to face with horrible grief. I shudder even now to think of it. But, I did a pretty good job of stuffing it. Going on. Making do. Taking care of grandma. Taking care of the family. Talking about how he was in a better place. All of the christianeze. But I broke inside. And I couldn't be made right. Not then.
Fast forward five years. My grandmother died. I became, overnight, the matriarch of my line of the family. My mother died when I was young, now my grandmother. No more people above me being the prayer warriors and watch dogs of the family. Wow. It was as intense of an emotion as I had ever experienced. But this time, I was ready for grief. I stopped. I grieved. I felt like I heard God tell me to just experience it. Feel it. Cry. Laugh. Went to the ocean. Walked for hours. Collected shells. Listened. Experienced the power of the waves and the tide. And breathed. Took for real deep breaths. I think that a lot of people walk around breathing shallowly, always afraid that one big breath is going to cause them to explode. My grandma's death was particularly hard because she had not told me that she loved me. I had always been a disappointment to her. Never stylish. Never creative. Never the hostess she thought that I should be. My dishes were inadequate, my cooking perhaps moreso. And I grieved the loss of the opportunity to ever hear that she finally thought that I was good just as I was.
And now, I know something. Grieving. Hurting. Going through what we are actually going through without stuffing it or minimizing it is what really allows us to grow and change and mature. The stuffing of circumstances does not allow us to learn the lessons that we need to. Instead we learn how to hide. How to keep our pride intact. I believe that therapists call it engaging the moment. Being fully engaged in pain HURTS. Duh. Of course it does. It is supposed to. But hurting is not always bad. It's ok to walk through hurt. As long as you keep on walking. And sometimes you have to stop as you are walking and really experience it. You have to let yourself actually feel the emotions that you were created with and that is terrifying. The depth of loss that we can actually experience can knock us off our feet. It can put us to bed. It can drive us to a time of unproductiveness. And, horror of horrors, I'm going to say it, heresy......that's just fine. Stopping is good. Being crushed and living through it allows us to walk uniquely and honestly with others. When you have faced the big things, the world is not such a scary place anymore. There is something about facing your fears and surviving that makes you stronger. If you always avoid your fears, they just keep building up until one day, they debilitate you.
I am not one of those people who walks around all negative. Quite the opposite. I like being positive. I like finding solutions. However, sometimes, the only solution is to stop and engage the present pain or anger or heartache. Funny how we feel so badly about allowing ourselves to do so. Perhaps especially with anger. But once faced, those feelings lose their hold on our lives.
So, perhaps you need a trip to the beach. Or a mountain top. Or the desert. Or the garden. Or a cabin in the woods. Or the lake. Or wherever it is that stops you. That makes you look around. That brings you hope. A place where you can hear the still small voice that says, "I am still here, and I love you. I'm sorry that you hurt." And in that hearing, you can heal.
love you.
blessings,
rhonda
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