“No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.” C.S.Lewis
It never ceases to amaze me what people forget to tell us. What we ourselves tend to omit in our conversations, our confessions…our lives. Things that are blatantly there- as obvious as the blue glass eye of one of my clients, that I cannot stop staring at. The reason I love that guy is because we don’t pretend that it isn’t there, or that I’m not staring at it. He makes jokes about it. He will text me as he is driving by and I will call him and say,
“Red, are you texting and driving?!” as if I’m absolutely appalled by the act. Red will laugh and say,
“Why yes, Melissa, I am! With no hands on the wheel and one eye!”
We laugh. It’s funny. It makes me feel better. Red would never ask me what in the hell I’m looking at. He has never tried to act like he isn’t a shaking fool with no control of his own strength when he shakes your arm- yes, your arm. He doesn’t lie about being married and having a girlfriend and looking for another one of both. Red makes a lot of people uncomfortable. People ask me all the time,
“Doesn’t he bother you?”
The truth is, Red does bother me. I think he’s an absolute pig…but then I remember that you must have suffered something yourself in order to cause suffering to others. I imagine Reds suffering. I know in my heart that to be how Red is means that someone was like that to him- or at the least, he witnessed it from someone he should have been able to trust and look up to. I adore Red because he does the best he can- and he knows it’s not very good. He knows that it makes most people uncomfortable, so he tries to be funny. Laughter is his distraction and he tries to distract the world with it, but whether it’s right or wrong, or uncomfortable, Red never, ever omits anything. He tells you everything.
“You live well, the visitor said. The slum must be inside you.” C.D. Wright
Red wears his slum on the outside, dirty laundry and all. There’s something endearing about that. I doubt that he spends much time asking God, What’s your point? Because Red is pretty point-blank, even with God. I on the other hand, I ask God all the time,
“Whaaaaaaaat? What??!! What do you want from me? What’s your point? What was the point in that? What’s with the repeat button in my life right now?”
For days…maybe a good week now, I’ve gone through some external changes with people in my life. A little housecleaning. A little boundary practice. Want to know what I omitted from these things? Grief. I did not grieve the loss of these people and our relationships. I just said, ok- fine. Done deal. They’re gone, not the one, or ones. They don’t belong in my life for one reason or another. It’s over, moving on. I asked for signs, you gave them to me.
And then he gave them to me again. And again.
Today he pulled out all of the stops and my recent ex called me…for? To make sure he was spelling my daughters name right because he is locked out of an email account that I set up. In the world of ‘no contact’ (Getting Past Your Break Up rule one) that falls under the lame reason to contact category. Also, he knows damn good and well how to spell her name.
It also tore me in two, but I think I handled it well and it made me feel better to know that this break up, it’s him who keeps reaching out to me. It felt good to say, I said no contact and that’s what I meant. Until I hung up the phone. And cried.
It occurred to me that after the last melt down in the bathroom, I haven’t had one since. That can’t be good, I reasoned. Judging by the last two days and the ‘signs’ I’ve had, I’d say I’m right. Why isn’t being right fun anymore? More importantly, why can’t I grieve? Well, I guess because it’s scary. When I consider how long I’ve avoided grieving, the amount of things I found unworthy of grief, the sheer number of things yet to come that, if I agree to this madness, I will have to grieve later- it’s absolutely, mindnumbingly, terrifying.
People volunteer for this? Crap. Yes, we do. But, we spend years vehemently denying not only the grief, but that we actually NEED to do so. I was a pro at saying, “But I DID cry!” as if that one time…or even those ten times, were enough. I suppose, now that I’m wiser and getting a handle on this grieving thing, that we do it until we don’t need to anymore. I apparently, am not there. When I should be asking myself, hey- how are you doing today? Need a little cry? I instead, and literally, start chanting, “It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter”. Why? Because the book told me to. Sort of. Ok, it used those words, but I pretty much omitted the directions. The directions were to say it when you find yourself uselessly ruminating over your ex and the past…not when your heart is crying out for a little breathing room.
So close, yet so, so far.
It seems silly to a large and egoic part of me, to actually sit down every day perhaps and at first, to ask myself, would you like to cry about anything today? The Queen is never going to go for this. Obviously. The self me would love to cry it out. The Queen would just assume gouge both of her eyes out and trade them in for cool blue glass ones that everyone will stare at…But I really think it has to be done. I really feel that if I don’t do this, I will start spinning here again. I don’t know how the part of me that ices over and omits pain got out of her cage. Not long ago, I was an emotional vat. I cried all the time. I cried at birds, the sun, the clouds, over books and music…oh.
I cried over joy. I was so overcome by love that I would cry from utter astonishment and….relief. It was during the time following the realiztion of I am. When I realized and then accepted that this wretch of me, contained God within.
It makes sense that you cannot uncover one without waking the other from slumber one sleepy eye at a time.
Just the other day I was telling my healer,
“I’m disconnected again. I feel so far from God…from that joy and that welling up of emotion in my chest…from when he would fill my body and spill over. I can’t understand where it’s gone. Why don’t I feel it? I see the same sky, the sun, the trees…and I just stare at them, waiting for it to happen, but it doesn’t. Where’s the magic at? Where’s that sense of spirit?”
Perhaps there is spirit in the grief. So many things seem to dwell there really.
“It’s easy to become disengaged with our spirits because life is compelling and the material universe is endlessly enchanting and demanding. We can literally spend all of our time engaged with our stuff, our dreams, our life themes and our current taxing stories, without ever stumbling into the realm of spirit. One of the functions of crisis is to take us exactly there.” Daphne Rose Kingma
I find that I am exactly there. Exactly at that place where I started once already, but I think, on a different and more expedient path to my next “exactly there.” After all, we are always exactly where we need to be.