Stuff I’ve Learned While Grieving
Something I’ve been reminded of recently is the fluidity of life and how that relates to personal growth. Even though my mind impulsively tries to arrange my life into some type of clean static narrative, everything is transient and dynamic. One victory or accomplishment does not guarantee the next. To most that is obvious. Most of us at some point in life have competed whether it’s in a formal league or the mandatory PE/gym class we took during school. This taught us how to accept losing to someone or something. What has been less clear for me though is the competition I have with myself when it comes to internal growth (emotional maturity, resiliency, ambition etc..)
Like many others, I grew up with stories. Narratives in books, movies and television that depict the hero’s journey.
Life seems normal. Then it gets tough. Then you learn. Then you’re good again. There’s a starting point with an arc and a challenge and at the end all is well and life has new meaning with newly found knowledge. I think this is ingrained in my subconscious. The same way phrases like “everything happens for a reason” or “in the end it will all work out” are wired into many. And while these phrases (like stories) can be comforting when lost in the chaos, they can be maddening when trying to make sense of a world that can be so random and indifferent. Sometimes it feels like I’ve been in the challenging part long enough now and the happy ending part is long overdue. I become impatient. Then my mind works against me by impulsively wondering if this emotional pain is a new norm and I wonder if life is sad from here on out. Unlike fiction, reality can be random, cold and indifferent.
When reality doesn’t reconcile with fiction and anecdotal wisdom, I’ve found myself in moments of panic. Are things really going to get better? The irony is that all of us with access to the internet and media have heard tragic stories that have little room for meaning and don’t include happy endings. Children that die of cancer is the easiest cliché example of stories without happy endings. Despite this awareness, I find myself feeling entitled to finding meaning or positivity in my own adversity. It’s been my antidote when feeling bad. But how can I be aware that a pure and innocent child died of a disease yesterday while today being angry at the universe for losing a loved one that “didn’t deserve to lose their life”? Like I somehow am entitled to a positive outcome even though reality has taught me that for some, it never arrives. It kind of makes me feel ridiculous and out of touch with how life works.
But what I’ve realized recently is that to be aware of data or information and to process a new emotion are two very different things. There’s a saying I’ve applied to myself incorrectly which is “when you know better you do better”. This may be accurate for tolerance of those that are different or useful for making responsible decisions, but it hasn’t been accurate for me with emotions and grief. Self awareness has been a double edged sword for me. Some days it feels like a superpower and other days it feels like a curse. Because to be aware is to put things into perspective and contextualize information so that you do not over or under react. But when you’re able to tell yourself “it’s really not the end of the world” while your emotions tell you the opposite, it can feel like failure. At least it has for me.
Since losing my mom I’ve struggled hard to find a silver lining or meaning. I’m still not sure if I’ve found that metaphorical path out of the dark woods. But lately I suppose the meaning or lesson that I have found is a better appreciation for the complexity of feelings along with a humbling reminder that despite all of the investments I’ve made in personal growth to understand myself, I’m still just a regular person with emotional limitations. And the output of that (I hope) is more patience with myself and a silencing of my inner critique when I am not being fair with myself. I guess those are a bunch of words just to say I am learning the value of being more patient and kinder to myself while accepting life does not fit into clean logical narratives. There's comfort in clean narratives. There’s comfort in certainty. But I think there can also be a sense of comfort in embracing the unknown and acknowledging that I don’t have all the answers. For me at least, I’m learning that there is more comfort in accepting life is random and unpredictable than being upset that my life doesn’t match the narrative of the average 500 page novel or 1.5 hour movie.
