They start without warning and can be incredibly debilitating, at least mentally. They feel unpredictable, coming on during times of joy, times of quiet, times of busy...grief waves.
For me, I can feel the pressure starting in my stomach and a deep internal sadness in my heart- my mind feels like I had subconsciously whispered 'what just happened', thinking it was simply a single thought, contained in just that second. Instead, those words swirl in echos around my brain, touching every hemisphere, bouncing back and forth to each other- like a ball being tossed just above my hands, unreachable no matter how high I jump. I have found that if I don't stop and internally pray, even if it's just a one word prayer 'Jesus!' and give the grief acknowledgement (whatever that needs to look like in the moment), it will continue to grow until I am anxious and/or emotionally distant (even from myself). I have also found that reaching out to Matt or my close friends and being authentic about the grief, even if it's just, 'I'm having a grief moment (or day)' helps so much too. I especially appreciate when those close to me don't try to 'fix' my grief but instead are just a soft and often quiet place to let me sit with them (even on the phone), in my grief, for a bit. I know that the wave of grief won't stay, like waves in the ocean, grief waves also ebb and flow, but even in that, as healthy as it is to acknowledge and give grief the space it needs to process, it's incredibly humbling and hard.
Switching gears but still relating to grief:
I didn't have the wear-with-all to ask the question on a breast cancer page I follow on Facebook...'Does anyone else find they are having to teach themselves to breathe again?' I didn't want to be misunderstood and hear the mass advise about how to 'learn to breath again' after trauma. It would just simply be a question that desired relatability, not advise....'it takes time' or 'this was something I experienced (or experience currently) too', was what I imagined would feel the most comforting to hear. I will purposely tell myself several times a day, 'Steph, take a deep breath in, now do it again'...I have often wondered if it's because I am waiting for the next hard time, bracing myself for whatever unknown crisis is possibly around the corner. It's in these times I have to dig deep into the truth I know, 'Fear not; for I am with you: be not dismayed; for I am your God; I will strengthen you; yes, I will help you; yes, I will uphold you with the right hand of My righteousness.' Isaiah 41:10. As I take the deep breaths, I am reminded that there is One watching over us who is the only strength we need. He has the past, present, and whatever is to come under His control and will always be our help. It's still hard though, to learn to breath again.
Grief is so many layers of complex- trauma adds a complicated dynamic to the layers. Complex and complicated that opens the door to a deeper understanding of how our hearts were created to have Jesus intricately weaved into every fiber of our beings. You already know this, I deeply love Jesus and I'm also deeply human- navigating 'real' life with Jesus is surprisingly freeing while being completely intimidating. It is so much less polished and much more gritty than what I would have thought. It's less judgement of others failures while being much more aware of the boundaries I need with others. I could go on but, I'll save that for another post.
