The Power of Words : Affirming Intention & Context : Part 3 of 3
noth ·ing //ˈnəTHiNG/
Pronoun: "You said nothing".
Adjective: "You had a series of nothing relationships".
Adverb: "You care nothing for others".
After all the suitcases and boxes are unpacked, the construction of a new home is complete, the adjustment to a new work environment, and the initial shock of your move, a weird and wily wave begins to flow. Sometimes it manifest as a feeling that the flood gates are about to open. At other times it appears in the form of remembering yourself at an earlier age. Delayed grief is the accumulation of a life well spent, and a life that demanded immediate attention to the details of daily living - feeding children, walking out to the car to scrap ice from the windows, paying bills, attending meetings, and on, and on, and on. You know Miss Mundane so well you could paint a Flemish portrait of her. You are not one of the women who took to their beds, or filled a vase with the tears of your grief.
In the process of transitioning into your encore life, you finally get to a place where it is safe enough to experience the emotions you tucked away. In my case, I had a series of multiple deaths between the ages of 12-24. In that short time frame, I lost my brother, my grandfather, my best friend from high school, and my life long best friend. The stars went out. Life didn't stop. I still tried out for cheer leading, still attended track meets, still studied ballet, still went to art school, still applied for college - I did EVERYTHING but stay still. Life didn't stop there. I got married, had children, joined the adult workforce, went to graduate school, got divorced, bought a house, and adapted multiple times to new cities. I held the hands of my family, my children, and my friends when they needed me. I painted my house, several times, bought furniture, several times, fell in love, several times, and changed jobs, several times. All of this activity, and those early losses, and now, the huge leap of faith that I can build a new life in another country, doesn't leave much room for me, and yet, calls out to the buried grief.
The Broad
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7 comments:
Thanks for the kind words Benne. My vision board has certainly resulted in some amazing events recently. In particular,the one I use to ask the universe to bring to me like minded people.
A complete change in life, like moving to a new country, can make many of the things we took for granted for years suddenly come into focus.
The need for tears, laughter, dear friends, our own space, even the smells and tastes of food. How lucky we are to have a reawakening.
You both have touched on an instrumental component to successful living, whether that is the encore life of moving abroad, or creating a new professional path - finding people who share our values, thus adding to the richness to the experience. Thank you for your comments.
I know many woman who have simply packed that sorrow away. I supoose it should come as no wonder that we find it in our suitcases packed along with our other momentos we bring to our new homes.
You are so on point Tracey. Yet, it does come as a surprise. I've had many women share that their grief came up at three different points in the journey - 3 months, 6 months, and 1 year. Any thoughts on why?
I have been really detached from my emotions for much of the last year. I've bound them up, wrapped tightly in stiff paper, and strangled the things with as much string as I can tie around the bundle, hoping nothing will break free. Just in the last month or two, I've had a sense that the need some air, and I've been able to loosen the strings a bit, fold back the paper, and expose the mess of it to light. Each morning, I am sitting in silence, inviting them to reappear in full. I don't think this is recommended. I wish I could just collapse in crisis and let someone else take over. Surely someone would? The thing I'm happy about is that the delay is only about 8-9 months, rather than the 12 years it took me to deal with my mother's disappearance, the 10 years it took me to face something else very ugly. Maybe by the time I'm 80 I'll have managed to coordinate event+feeling within the same day or so ;-)
"Look at that child trying to go around her elbow to get to her thumb!" That would be my Pa Père, blowing out a deep guttural laugh like a trombone, when one of the grandchildren was learning a new skill, such as walking, talking, or riding the bicycle Santy Clause had put under the Christmas tree.
Grieving seems like it should be a straightforward task, but like learning to talk, it takes practice. We don't choose grief, and we often are not deciding which of the many roles in the process we will take upon ourselves. Who would ever want to master grief? During traumatic events, there is a need for someone who will board up the windows before the hurricane hits, the person who will cover the once-upon-a-time roof with a blue tarp, and someone who will repair the damage to the infrastructure. Unfortunately, for some of us, it we have our unfair share of practice in all the caretaking roles that grief requires.
Recognizing that your heart, brain, and soul can no longer do all those jobs, speaks to a highly developed sense of competence, and equal in importance to your role as being the one in charge during the crisis. As I get older, I grow in my appreciation of those mundane task that help keep this huge flood at bay. Being responsible for securing the lashings during the crisis, and un-tieing them once crisis is abated, it is no wonder that when the time comes for self-care, it makes us question our ability to master any skill. Removing the wrappings in small steps is evidence of mastering resiliency.
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