Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Wrestling with Grief

I feel like the process of grief is something like a mental & emotional wrestling match. One where my brain sees or hears something (a grandma with her grandchildren, a friend mentioning Thanksgiving plans with their mom, me & Sarah needing to do the Christmas shopping for my dad) and then does it's job and tries to process all the thoughts and emotions that go with it. Then I manage to wrestle all that yuckiness back down until it comes pouring out about once a week in a period of depression & tears.

C.S. Lewis wrote of grief in his book A Grief Observed, "No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid. The same fluttering in the stomach, the same restlessness, the yawning. I keep on swallowing. At other times it feels like being mildly drunk, or concussed. There is a sort of invisible blanket between the world and me. I find it hard to take in what anyone says. Or perhaps, hard to want to take it in. It is so uninteresting. Yet I want the others to be about me. I dread the moments when the house is empty. If only they would talk to one another and not to me . . . An odd by-product of my loss is that I’m afraid of being an embarrassment to everyone I meet. At work, at the club, in the street, I see people, as they approach me, trying to make up their minds whether they’ll ‘say something about it’ or not. I hate it if they do, and if they don’t . . . And grief still feels like fear. Perhaps more strictly, like suspense. Or like waiting; just hanging about waiting for something to happen. It gives life a permanently provisional feeling. It doesn’t seem worth starting anything. I can’t settle down. I yawn, I fidget, I smoke too much. Up till this I always had too little time. Now there is nothing but time. Almost pure time, empty successiveness . . ."

I relate. I've always been a bit ADD-ish or something, but lately I've been frustrated with my lack of focus and concentration. I've been especially frustrated when I sit down to read my Bible and I re-read the same lines over and over and over...and still have yet to take anything in. I was praying this week about why it's been so hard for me to focus lately. I realized then that it's because of this internal wrestling match, that in the quiet times I probably do need to do a little processing, yet I keep trying to ignore it. Why? Oh, I don't know...probably because like any other human being on the planet, I hate pain. I relate also to what he says about being around others. I want people to "say something about it," and yet, I don't. I want to cry, to have someone hug me and tell me it will all be ok, but I choke all this back inside, because I don't know how to talk about it and just cry around others. I want to share my grief with others, but it is also intensely private.

I know that to move on, though, I must cry. I must face it and stop wrestling with it. So, when I finally do submit to the emotions and the thoughts, I give it to Jesus. I crawl onto His lap and cry. "The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit" - Psalm 34:18.

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