Grief isn't the same for every person and it's not one size fits all; it's more like...the right size fits you. You meet grief as you do a nasty neighbor whom no one knows how to interact with but there's no choice in the matter- you live next door and there's no moving away there's only learning how to manage him. He's frightening, he scares the kids when grief makes you cry, he oversteps your comfort zone and won't apologize, he meddles in every space in your life without your permission, he reveals character traits you never knew existed and better yet, uncovers emotions within you that are magnified beyond manageability. He makes you feel helpless but he's inexplicably forgiving and you become fast friends. He becomes your shadow and you welcome his company...except you wonder when he'll wear out his welcome for it may be days or it may be years. In my case, it's going to be years.
I've been withdrawn as of late- a total 180 from where I was three months ago eager to be present in people's company and accepting of their offerings and support. Wanting nothing but to be embraced with their love for Charley, I reluctantly trusted their loyalty to him but subconsciously questioned their genuine interest in me. Still, I blindly ventured in a collaborative love with my arms and hands stretched out before me and my eyes on the back of my head...watching and waiting for anyone to swipe our frail legs out from under us and laugh at our unconditional love for my brother.
Suddenly, and without warning, this life and the world around me became a distrusting place. One that rejects and hurts without a moral compass or compassion. I evaluated the people we allowed into our grief and scrutinized what their hidden agendas may be. But when I found none, I also found that I wasn't convinced. So I did what my defenses suggested I do- I made my rounds and thanked each steady soldier for their service and offered the option to end their assignment with me and my grief companion. No one should feel obligated to check in on me, text me words of encouragement and positivity, offer to come over and help me out with Mia, listen to me endlessly cry with nothing to say to ease my pain or continue on this journey of loss with me. Just because his friends love him doesn't mean we have to be insta-friends...I don't have to be loved out of guilt or remorse. I gave them an out. Leave before you get tired of grief. Busy yourself with your life and don't worry about mine. "I appreciate your loyalties to me and my family but it's okay if it's time for you to move on. I understand you have your own life and don't expect you to be around while I grieve for always".
So during my therapy session yesterday and over sobs and self-abuse, my therapist looked over at me with sad eyes and empathy glowing from her face, "You're giving people permission to leave before they abandon you. You're hurting yourself before they hurt you. You're in so much pain that you are afraid to take on anymore". My heart opened with understanding and I nodded in astonished agreement. It's true- if the man who loves me more than anyone else, if he was able to leave me (although unintentional), who's to say everyone else won't? If HE hurt me, why wouldn't his friends who don't truly know me? Some of his fire crew abandoned me, his no-good unworthy callous ex-love abandoned me and my brother six weeks after his passing, and my own "friends" abandoned me the moment Charley passed. I'm terrified of being abandoned by no fault of my own. I'm keeping people at arm's length while keeping my heart guarded and my legs steadfast so I can run at any given moment. Truthfully though, while I'm terrified of feeling more alone than I already do, I'm also needy and hungry for a tangible love that I will never touch again. I can easily spend my life looking for him, tire myself out and will never trust in the bonded manner I trust my brother.
No comments:
Post a Comment