A Mirror Of Our Love

  Someone once said, "Grief is your love, turned inside out.". I like that. It really is true. Why do sorrow and grief hurt so bad? Because the love was so strong. And if you're a HSP (Highly Sensitive Person) like me, then you do indeed feel deeply; both the good and the bad. My husband has been trying to help me overcome this intense sensitivity for about a year now, and it's slow progress. Really slow. My family called me a drama queen, though I never meant to be one; I was just different in how I reacted to situations. My problem was that I was never "happy" or "sad". I felt things sharper; deeper. Instead of happy, I was ecstatic. Instead of sad, I was despondent. To make things more complicated, I picked up other people's sorrows and problems and internalized them. I could be having a perfectly good day, but if someone near me was feeling down, then BOOM! I'd be crushed and depressed with them, with no clear way of how to get back to being happy. I still struggle with this, although it's gotten better in the last year (again, thanks to my patient man!).

  Being a HSP and someone who internalizes other people's emotions has proved to be the ultimate challenge as I still wade through grief these days. My husband is back from bootcamp, and I am SO happy to have him home! But at the exact same time, I still struggle with the sadness that things didn't work out the way we wanted them to. This was all my husband wanted, and his lifelong dream got snatched away. I didn't realize I did it, but I internalized all of his emotions. It's almost like my mind is saying, "Here, let me suffer the heartbreak for you, so you don't have to." I took his sadness, despair, frustration, and grief, and added it to my own feelings of grief. WHY DO I DO THIS!?!?!? As if my double suffering is really going to help anyone??? Grrr. But I did it, and now I'm trying to get out of this mess.

  Grief hurts because it's a mirror of our love.

  A few people, here and there, are starting to give me the whole, "it's time to move on" speech. Or telling me that this really is hardly anything to still be grieving over. I just keep my mouth shut at this, because 1) I can jolly well grieve as long as I need to, and 2) absolutely nothing decent would come out of my mouth if I responded. Grief is just too personal to put a limit on. A normal person could probably move past this faster, but for a sensitive person who took on a double load of emotions? It's gonna' take a whole lot longer.

  The healing process has proved interesting, at least. It's an inward journey to see what works, and what doesn't. I'm writing in my journal every day, to vent and explore my muddled mind, and after that there's lots of time on my yoga mat, lots of practice in quieting my mind through concentrated breathing, and of course reading my Bible.

  Grief is a challenge, in that it strikes you at random times throughout the day. I can be having a happy day, and then something will spark that sadness... It can be folding my man's camo pants/blouse, putting his cover (hat) away, or even simply seeing a USMC decal on someone's truck. I try so hard to fight those feelings... Try to battle the sadness, the disappointment. Sometimes it works better than others.

  Grief hurts because it's a mirror of our love. I have no desire to temper the intensity of my compassion and love, so I guess I have to accept the intensity of the grief, and learn to tame the beast. What an uphill climb...

  Namaste.

It Hurts Because It Mattered

via Unsplash

 Sometimes life is downright hard. It can be cruel, disheartening, and even depressing. I'm experiencing this right now. I've been experiencing this for the last couple of weeks. Life tossed me lemons, and I've momentarily lost my recipe for lemonade. I will be brutally honest: My husband and I have long planned on living the military lifestyle, and we've worked doggedly towards that. Then something came up two weeks ago, out of the blue, and my dear man is being discharged. All of our hopes and dreams were washed down the drain by one small signature. The first week of dealing with that was hell for me. I wanted and needed my husband near me to help me through the painful sobs that racked my body day and night, and he needed me too. But the military has yet to let him go... He's almost 2,000 miles away from me, and I have no idea when he will finally get to come home. He sends me letters from base, but I'm not allowed to send any back. He can make a five-minute phone call once a week, but I can't call him. It's one thing to deal with this type of thing when you know your loved one is actively serving, and busy. But when you know he's supposed to be home, and the freaking military is in no hurry to send him back, and you both need each other to process the whole problem... Suddenly it's a very big deal that communication is so limited.

This whole blog began because I needed a writing outlet to help me through this grief. This is the whole reason I started yoga. I was depressed, I stopped eating and sleeping, I was losing a gross amount of weight, and I was getting seriously sick. I knew something needed to happen, but I didn't know how to get out of this funk. On a whim, I decided to try going to a yoga class that was close by. I went into that class feeling the way I just described. I walked out feeling peaceful, calm, and focused. I was hooked. So from then on, I began doing yoga every day. Starting out with just 15 minutes of working out, and each day going a little longer until I had the stamina to easily go an hour.

  It's on my mat that life disappears. I focus on my breath, my stance, my twists, the rhythm of the music... My mat has become a place that negativity, doubt, and fear cannot overtake.

  But I can't always be on my mat. So I'm learning how to deal with grief. And you know what? Most people aren't right when they tell you how to deal with it. They tell you to tough up, or stay positive, or that things will get better soon, or that crying doesn't solve anything. I've decided that these people have clearly never felt true grief.

  No, when it all falls apart, it hurts. It hurts bad. And you know what? It's supposed to hurt. It hurts because it mattered.

  I can't claim to be an expert on how to process grief, but if you're in the same emotional boat as I am right now, then here are a couple tips I offer in love.

  Feel free to cry to help you through. Cry so much that you get scald marks on the corner of your eyes from the hot tears. Scream if you have to. It helps. Stomp the ground, slam your fists on a wall, hug your knees and rock back and forth, or whatever you need to do.

  Allow yourself to grieve. It really is okay to just be sad. Mind you, taking the path that I took of "no food, no sleep" is a dangerous one and I don't recommend that. Be sad, yes. But don't neglect yourself. Listening to emotional music can be great too. I admit that I find myself singing the chorus of Avril Lavigne's song 'Wish You Were Here' (click link to open a new window and have a listen). It's not a song my mother would approve of, but gosh it helps to yell that chorus while driving my truck on back, country roads. Listening to really upbeat music after the sad stuff helps too. Really.

  Find a routine. With routine comes a more peaceful mind. My favorite routine is to take a long, hot shower, either in the afternoon or evening, and then do my yoga right after that. But I try to keep my whole day fairly planned out.

  Swear if you have to. I'm not normally a swearing type of person, but I will admit that sometimes it really helps to use strong language when muttering to myself (or loudly singing in the truck).

  Be nice to yourself. Don't go bonkers, but heck, go buy something that you've been eyeing for awhile (and is in the budget. Now might *not* be the time to get a loan on that BMW you've been wanting). Buy a book or two. Or a new, incredibly sexy outfit (guilty), or buy a king sized bag of chocolate and eat it all (also rather guilty). Buy a new video game, go get your hair dyed, or if you're sure you can make the commitment... Buy a pet.

  Do something new. Remember? This is how I got so hooked on yoga! I was sinking in a dark depression, but decided to try something new. If you've never done yoga, I would GREATLY encourage you to start! If you're already familiar with yoga, try something else; oil painting, hip hop dancing, singing, or martial arts. I just had my first Tai Kwon Do class yesterday evening (again, something new). I'm horrible at it, I'm in a class with 7 - 8 year olds who are better than me, and it's something I've NEVER done before. But it's fun! Martial arts are a great thing to take up during certain kinds of grief; it's empowering, strengthening, and focusing. It's like yoga on aggressive steroids.

  Volunteer somewhere. Somehow, helping others really helps. It may take a week or two, or three, before you're ready to be around people though, and that's fine. Take your time. I'm currently trying to get a position as a volunteer at my local animal shelter. I think it'll be something I enjoy, and at the same time it'll keep my body and brain occupied.

  Write. Even if you can hardly spell, and think you're a horrible writer, write anyway. This one is really important. Get those thoughts out! No one is going to peek, or correct your grammar, or judge. If you want to, burn the pages after writing. There is something quite fulfilling about writing down negative things and watching them burn to ash.

  Take your time. Don't put a time limit on how long you are allowed to grieve. If it takes three months, that's okay. If it takes a year, that's okay too. You may feel great one day or week, and then feel like you're back at square one the next day or week. Grief is not linear. It's not a straight line that has a perfect start and stop. You won't just suddenly be over it 5 months later on a Wednesday at 3:22pm. Sorry, but that's not the way it works. Instead it's a pattern of upright zigzags; like watching a heart beat on a monitor. You'll have highs, and you'll have lows. But eventually, yes eventually, those zigzags will start having more ups than downs. The upswings will be higher, and the downward dips will be shallower. Time doesn't necessarily heal the wound. It just lessens the pain.

  And yes, someday you will be able to smile again. I know you will.