“Our feelings are our heart’s internal wisdom speaking to us. Emotions help us by giving voice to what we need and giving us strength and resolve to take appropriate action through this morass of illness, decision-making, and loss.”
~ Rev. Patricia Gulino Lansky, What to Expect When You’re Grieving
We all know that our emotions can be up one moment and down the next. Many of us are taught early on that we need to “control” our emotions… reign them in… We need to be sure that we are in control of our emotions and not the other way around.
I can’t say that I totally disagree with that… I also can’t say that I totally agree either. I think it is more of a balance vs control. For example, if we try to control our emotions to the point where we no longer feel them, that is called repression… and it is unhealthy. At the same time, if we allow our emotions to completely take over our thought processes with no regard to how our actions might affect others, that can become dangerous and is also unhealthy.
Good or bad, it’s important to realize that our emotions are like a window into our soul… They are a way to understand how we are currently experiencing the world around us. It is important to acknowledge how we are feeling and process those emotions before we act.
The night Bruce died, I think my mind realized the pain that was coming and shut down, in a way, so that I was running on instinct… and nothing more. I remember every moment of that night. When I first started to arouse, I thought he was snoring weird or having a nightmare, so I nudged him a few times. There was no panic yet… no real emotion. I just wanted to go back to sleep.
It was only seconds later when I realized that this was much more serious. When I called 911, the operator asked me if he was breathing… Honestly, I wasn’t sure. His breathing was so ragged… He would take a quick breath, then, just as I thought that was it, he would let it out and take another. “Yes… no… yes… it’s not normal. He is struggling,” I remember saying.
The operator walked me through all the things I needed to do for the EMS crew to get in and for me to start CPR. Once again, they asked if Bruce was breathing. “Yes,” I answered as he exhaled… I waited for the inhale which I knew would be slow to come… but it never came… And my heart broke as I started CPR.
I didn’t cry though… not yet. It was as if my mind knew there was too much at stake to start that now… There was work to do… Surely, he would come out of this… Surely, he would be okay.
When the EMS crew arrived, they took over. I moved to the corner and watched… still no tears. I watched them load him on a gurney as I answered questions about his medications and if I wanted a ride to the hospital. I was rational enough to answer all the questions, grab his medications from the cabinet, climb into the police cruiser, fasten my seat belt, and make the first call…
“Momma,” I managed to whisper, “We’re on our way to the hospital… I think Bruce is… dead. Can you come?”
(And breathe…) Even writing this sends me back to that night… every light, every smell, all of it. I know I cried once the doctors confirmed what I already knew… I don’t remember the tears, but I remember going through tissues after tissue. I remember wanting to world to just stop for a minute so that I could catch up to what was happening… It was too much too fast… This couldn’t be real, could it?
I firmly believe my mind went into overdrive to protect me from all of the emotions that would come later. For the first several days, all I could do was just sit and stare into nothingness. The shock of what was happening was more than my mind could comprehend. I am so thankful for Bruce’s and my family who came and sat with me… helping through those first few days… reminding me (and making a list) of all the things I would need to do to take care of the business of death.
That was over 12 years ago… Since then, I have felt a lot of emotions in connection to the grief I have felt for Bruce’s death. Throughout that time, there have people who thought I should have “gotten over it” faster than I did. That’s okay… I have managed it in my own time.
Here’s the thing… with great love comes great loss and great grief. And grief of this magnitude was not anything I had ever experienced before. It was a path I knew nothing about. At the same time, I learned to be brutely honest about those emotions… the window to my soul and all that was in turmoil in there.
Those emotions allowed me to “give voice” to my grief – in my journal, my poetry, my painting, and this blog. While my mind closed that mind at the beginning, once I learned how to open that window, there was no turning back… I had to learn how to speak that language of my heart or I would not have survived.
Allowing myself to feel and process those emotions through the years has taken a long time, and I know it will likely be a lifelong journey in some way. I also know that it was as important to my psyche as breathing is to my body.
This process of working with and through our emotions… grief in this instance – are how we find healing, balance, and wholeness. It is how we are able to walk past what we knew and enter into what is and will be…
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Grief is a daily challenge. It changes us in ways we could never foresee, making this journey a difficult path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone.
I don’t think any of us chose to be here… I know I didn’t. Yet, this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined and emotions that feel overwhelming at times. So often, I think I have it all figured out, only to find that isn’t true at all. Despite the years since Bruce passed, my life is still filled with challenges, as I am sure yours is too. Learning to take it one day/moment at a time is all any of us can do.
Thankfully, I know I am not alone… None of us are… We have each other. It is our love for those we have lost that brings us together into this space where we can share our experiences. I believe the sharing of our stories is so important… I believe it is healing. Do you have a story to tell? I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. I believe we can offer each other empathy when we open our hearts to one another. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone.
Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you… This is our community. To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*
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