An Intimate Grief
Original Post Date: March 24, 2024
“That all changed when the agony visited me more recently. The bereaved was hard to see, outline, or even define. It was more intimate than ever before. So close that I felt wrong that I dared to leave them behind. ”
This week’s post was supposed to house a different topic, but I felt like this reflection on my recent change in mindset was more relevant. As we focus on evolving, we have to discuss the process of leaving behind the versions you’ve evolved from. It’s a journey I didn’t see coming and had little desire to pursue. Eventually, I understood the necessity and expected the ability to walk a new path.
How do you say goodbye to someone who isn’t going anywhere? How do you say goodbye to someone who hasn’t died? How do you say goodbye to someone you don’t want to lose?
I’ve grieved the actual dead. I’ve mourned relationships that were clearly not meant to hold space in my life. I’ve grieved moments that transformed into memories.
The grief that no one talks about is grieving yourself. Everyone reiterates that everyone grieves differently, but no one mentions the magnitude and various forms.
Grief can hit you at any moment, but there's typically an indication that it’s coming. The funeral passes. The last conversation occurs. The door to a previous reality locks.
You go about your life and tip-toe around the triggers that could set off your emotions. Maybe you cry, shut down, or scream. The manifestation is unique to the beholder.
Overall, I’ve known grief as the sad storm between love and detachment. The element had always been external to me. There were other parties to accuse of blame and charge responsibility.
Grief was never permanent because I could distract myself. I’d step outside my sorrow long enough to remember that there was happiness. It felt bearable because I could run away. I could hide in my responsibilities.
That all changed when the agony visited me more recently. The bereaved was hard to see, outline, or even define. It was more intimate than ever before. So close that I felt wrong that I dared to leave them behind.
The bereaved was me.
Healing isn’t linear. You’ll move past one pain but reveal more scares. As you patch them up you may even create more. Your heart has to learn to heal. There’s no destination that Siri will announce you arrived at and even if there was then it’d never stop moving.
Humans aren’t simple. Every phase of you will hold traits that you love and ones you despise. The people you come across will mirror this attitude.
Healing isn’t linear, it's a journey. On a journey, some mountains will have a steeper climb, but I bet the view at the top is worth it.
Healing isn’t linear, but there will be clear signs that it’s time to elevate to a new baseline.
I remember the incremental moments of growth. The satisfaction of putting myself first was scary but satisfying. The first words that I spoke to defend myself filled me with power. As I stole my first glances and felt real beauty, my eyes grew with wonder.
I thought it’d be me and my little monuments of growth for forever. I didn’t think that the journey came with decisions. If I just kept pushing forward, I’d end up in the right place right. I’d find the right people and live in a proper mindset.
My self-inflicted grief came in a strange way. My best explanation would be empty tears. My sorrow revealed itself in the absence of sadness. Everything was the same; the same triggering situations and the same tears. What was missing was the emotional connection. It felt like I was forcing tears down my face and searching for the sadness to fuel more, but it was gone.
The care for what once rattled my world was gone. It’s like all the parts of me had packed up and fled, but I still had to lock the door and walk away.
I knew that there were no visits. There was no U-turn. I was leaving the old version of myself in the environment she was built in. Not because I didn’t love her. That’s what this process has shown me. How much I love her. How much I appreciate her. But there are still things that I despise about her.
She was the hardest to let go of but the most crucial. Ignoring the signs and not detaching would create more opportunities for grieving the others.
Knowledge and wisdom are nothing without application. If I hadn’t walked away, I’d be known better but not doing better. I couldn’t let myself feel like a fraud, especially when that’s what my unhealed self was working towards an authentic life.
There’d be send off but I wasn’t putting everything in the casket.
In the time that we mourn, we cry because we miss the things that we love. When that grief is for someone that is no longer here or someone that you have to love from a distance, you can only reminisce. The beautiful part of grieving yourself is that your best attributes are the parting gift. You can take the lesson; you can learn to live again.
With Love,
Allie
Song of the Post:
I never expected to love Al Green as much as I do and I never suspected to come across How Can You Mend A Broken Heart. I think it perfectly encapsulates the experience of grieving. From his lyrical composition to the agony in his voice, the pain and hardship coat the listener. It tugs at your heart but comforts you all at once.
