Friday, February 15, 2013
Grief Cannot be Contained
The death of my child was like an 8.0 earthquake on the ocean shelf and the upheaval that followed was the tsunami that destroyed everything I had known, built and counted on. As the shore cannot contain the ocean waves, neither can the enormity of my grief, or of a spouse’s or of a child’s.
I found myself puzzled, frantic and overwhelmed by my inability to regain control, or get back “to the way things were” I found myself suddenly sobbing and breaking down without my permission and, usually, with little warning, it is hideous. I found myself judging myself as crazy, weird and all manner of negative self-judgments. All of my inexperience in managing feelings and constant implosions add to the horror of what I face.
Most of all I did not know who or what I am anymore. Those around me try to help, but cannot because no one can see, touch hear, or smell the destruction. It is invisible intangible and worst of all, immeasurable. It is a hole in my soul.
I had very little experience in dealing with such powerful, pervasive, uncontrollable feelings.
The most common statements I hear from bereaved folk and asked myself, is, “What’s wrong with me?” Or “Why can’t I seem to stop crying all the time?” This is often followed by the statement. “I hate it, I just hate it! Please make it stop hurting.”
At the end of the day, after all is said and done and all the help has gone home, the black hole of my grief cannot be contained, only expressed.
I wish it were otherwise.