Grieving.

[LittleBoat]

I've been having more grief, lately.  Some of it has been troubling and full of despair.  But those periods also made me realize that there is a hole in my core that can't ever be filled by other's love.  It's a hole from, I'm pretty sure, a very young, pre-verbal place.  It was dreadful to sob in a ball, feeling so desolate.  But I am glad to have learned this.  Because now I won't be looking to others to fill that hole for me.  It isn't their job. 

Today I was writing to a dear friend, and I started thinking about how our culture does a terrible job with teaching people how to deal with others' grief and suffering.  I began to sob, but this was different than the desolate feeling from the day before.  I felt a sense of relief and hope and being in the present moment.  This is what Pete Walker stresses:  That grieving cleanses.  It was a short-lived but remarkable re-attachment to my present life and things that offer the simplest of pleasures. 

It is now the end of the day, and I don't feel that sense of relief and hope.  I just feel spent, exhausted, and depressed.  I think, for the amount of inner work I've been going through, that such feelings are to be expected.  Like running a marathon inside your soul.

I am wondering if, as a person moves into and through the grieving stage, the window of relief and release grows wider.  I am wondering if it is "normal" to feel just a crack of light, a small sliver of hope and cleansing, during the earliest stages of grief, and that maybe, with further grief work, that crack, that sliver, will widen slowly over time.  I hope so.  I really do.  Can anyone relate?  All best, LittleBoat

[woodsgnome]

Nice reflections, Little Boat...thank you.

Well, I've had a long ride with grief, enough to learn it's not predictable, either as to its manner or the outcome. It seems important to suspend expectations. And to resist the urge to consider grief as something that shouldn't be there, or should be less over time, or so many other unspoken shoulds.

I've been surprised by its persistence. It's been a struggle learning not to fight it; that it's okay to be in that spot, even if it's not cool to do so. Like so much in cptsd, the 'norms' are different. The other thing is to note that grief is just one part of working with this element of our being. But, as Walker points out, it's crucial that we find some way to live with it.

I'm not sure about the 'sliver of hope' growing wider; I think it does change, but more like a spiral or a varying glow of light instead of as a steady progression from point A to B and beyond. It is, however it happens, often a relief to unload a bit of the burden.

Loved your phrase, that this is "like running a marathon inside your soul." May your run result in more insights as you deal with the nagging after-effects ot the previous run. Allowing grief in--I've come to think of it not as an evil something to be rid of, but as a part of me (e.g. inner child) needing protection and nurturing as it in turn helps me move into making peace with the senseless stuff that I had to undergo to get to this survival point.

[LittleBoat]

Hi Woodsgnome,
Thank you for responding.  I am kind of nervous to hear that your grieving has lasted for such a long time.  This level of work is new to me, and right now, I feel like it makes me very different from other people.  Also, that I must stay close to home and live a small life.  Because the contrast between grief and people going about their business under the bright sun seems too great a contrast to tolerate.  And I also don't have control over the sobbing.  I have to believe that grief work is worth it.  That it has some reward, some positive and restorative outcome.  Otherwise, I feel beyond help and hope.  ---All best, LittleBoat