Tag Archives: reality

The Thing About Grief

It’s a deep, twisting, vertical cave, and you cling somewhere to the side of it. The Rock is slimy, cold, covered with a residue of something quite foul. You are frozen, unable to climb up toward the light.

You can hear them calling you from the light at the top of the cave. You rest your cheek for just a minute against the icy rock. You despise it here. You wish you could feel their love, and that it could save you. You wish you actually wanted to live, for them. But right now, all you want is to let go of that jagged rock, and be free. You are desperate to stop hurting. You didn’t know this type of torture was even possible.

The thing about grief, is that it can be caused by many different things:

Death of someone you love, care for, admire.

Loss of a beloved pet.

Loss of a close friendship.

Loss of/ ending of a career that gave you a deep sense of purpose.

Loss of a romantic relationship.

The end of a marriage.

A parent leaving.

The ending of a dream, vision you had of the way your life would be.

Loss of your life as you know it, as you are comfortable with, as you have come to depend on.

Love and care in any form that you had once relied on, suddenly taken away.

Those things all cause grief.

And the thing about grief, is there is absolutely nothing that can be done to make it go away. Grief is awful beyond belief. Period.

You have to feel it, in all it’s miserable, hellish agony, before you can even begin to think about healing. That means for a certain length of time, you will exist without joy, without a sense of hope, without anything except your will to keep clinging to the inside of that cave.

And that is okay.

Don’t you dare put on a fake smile to make others feel comfortable.  Don’t you dare pretend you are okay. Don’t you dare let anyone tell you “it could be worse.” Don’t you dare let anyone tell you to “be strong.”

Because, my dear, the very fact that you still live, enduring the hell on the inside of that cave, clinging despite your stiff, tired hands, and exhausted heart. ……..that, my dear, proves you are very, very strong.

As you exist, feeling ill, exhausted, angry, full of sorrow on the side of that cave, take comfort in the fact that you are strong. Yes, you feel helpless, because pretty much, that’s exactly what you are. Helpless. Unable to gain back what you have lost. Unable to escape your pain, except during sleep, if you are lucky.

It sucks very, very badly. It probably will for a long time. The last thing you want to hear is some hopefull, flowery quote telling you to think positive and it will be okay in the end. So I won’t do that.

But I am going to say that one day (when you are ready and not one moment sooner,) you will remember that you are alive, and that your life belongs to you. You could not control the devastating loss you have suffered, but you can control what you do with the life that still exists within you.  It is your life that those voices coming from the light at the top of the cave are calling for. Over time, those voices will get stronger, and that light will get brighter, because you will have started your careful climb upward.

An important part of your heart, of who you are, has died. The suffering you have endured is indescribable, and you deserve every ounce of sympathy you receive.

But, you have not died. You still live. You have full control over what you do with the days you have left on this Earth. I really hope you choose to (eventually) have some fun, find a new purpose, and love again. You deserve love. And just because you have lost love in the past, does not mean you will lose it again.

The thing about grief is, the reason it hurts so badly is that at one time you had something very, very special. At one time, you had something that made your soul happy. Try to remember that. And keep gripping to the side of that cave.

 

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Thanks for reading.

Be Brave, and Talk

You’d Feel No Envy

She looks immaculate. Her white teeth literally glint in the sunlight. You aren’t sure which sparkles more, her gorgeous sapphire eyes, or the rippling waves of her hair. She wears $300 shoes, and a $700 dress. She walks gracefully and confidently.

You pass her by awkwardly, in your flip flops and $10 t-shirt. She stares straight ahead, as if you don’t even exist. You feel self conscious, wishing you could look more like her, be more like her. You envy her, in all her beautiful, perfect, confident glory. You feel pathetic and small, compared to her.

But you would feel no envy if you could see the rare skin disorder she hides beneath her designer outfit. You would feel no envy if you realized the reason she stares straight ahead is that she is trying with all her might to hold back tears, because last night she caught her husband cheating on her. You would feel no envy if you knew that she will never have the strength to leave him. Her Facebook photos will tell a story of a gorgeous couple, madly in love. Her reality will be far different.

Your heart sinks. You try not to watch the family enjoy their picnic at the park, as you sit like a lonely loser feeding the birds.  As the children giggle and gleefully chase each other about, you become acutely aware that your window of opportunity to have children of your own is quickly closing. You don’t even have a girlfriend, let alone a potential mother of your future children. You feel more than envy. You feel resentment at how unfair life is. You feel anger toward the family, in all their loving, laughing, hugging, picture perfect glory.

But you would feel no envy if you knew the couple is only together for the sake of the children. You’d feel no envy if you saw the father soak his pillow with tears every night, because the youngest child was just diagnosed with cancer. You’d feel no envy if you saw the mother soak hers because she is in love with a man she will never be able to have. The family photos on Facebook tell a story of a loving family that always has fun together. Their reality is far different.

Next time you sit beside a perfect looking couple in a restaurant, browse an old friend’s photos on social media, or pass a beautiful body on the beach, try to stop yourself from feeling that envy.  Reality is usually far different than appearance.

Give a warm smile, or type a sincere compliment. Because chances are, these people who seem to have it all are checking YOU out, and envying YOU.

(Oh, if only they could live a week in your life! They would feel no envy.)

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Thank you for reading.

Be Brave, and Talk