5 Stages of Grief

Sometimes I forget, for whom I am writing. I catch myself thinking about what people would like to read, about the voice that reads familiar in other blogs, then remember that the purpose of this blog, is to find my voice. I am not writing to please, not writing to be mainstream. I am just writing. Writing for the sake of writing. So here I am.

Tuesday, June

Sitting on my bed alone, I turned my phone on Do Not Disturb, so as to be alone with my thoughts. Silence befell the world. If only I could quiet my mind, too.

I am anxious and have been anxious for over a week now. I know why. It’s circumstantial. This is how my brain processes and reconciles with the imminent passing of my grandma. Except I have ugly old habits associated with anxiety: When anxiety comes flooding, raging, and all-consuming, all I want to do is run. Escape. As far away as possible. Every fibre of my being aches for a new reality, a new beginning. Too bad that’s not how life works. Too bad that’s not how we get over our anxiety, either.

So instead, I sit.
In abject misery, I sit.
Staring into the abyss, I sit.
Amid palpitating heart beat, I sit.
Enveloped in fear and angst, I sit.
I sit. I sit. I sit.
And wait.
Trusting that eventually I will move onto the next stage of Grief, finally arriving at Acceptance.

But until then I can only sit. Sit and wait. Sometimes with eyes wide open, mouth agape. Sometimes overtaken by tears, heart wrenched in a fist.

No body ever said grieving was pretty.

Time moves in one direction, memory in another.

William Gibson
No place to hide

Our Warring Self vs. Loving Self

The beauty of the world which is so soon to perish, has two edges, one of laughter, one of anguish, cutting the heart asunder

Virginia Woolf

Within most of us, there is a lovingself, and a warringself. While our loving-self endows us with bottomless source of love, our warring-self shelters our hearts from the sometimes abrasive and hostile world. Undeniably, both of them serve a critical purpose in life. However, in order to not sever and wound the people we love, we need to be able to discern when to let our loving-self surface.

Hardened by reality, it is common for us to forget how to lay down our warring selves—especially when we are with those who are closest to us. We sometimes find ourselves in heated conversations with fingers pointing, guns blazing, occupying as much physical space as possible, only to camouflage how small we actually feel inside.

“Why can’t you just see that I am hurting?” We scream loudly and hopelessly in our heads. But only in our heads.

So HOW do we stop our warring, raging-self before we irrevocably damage the relationship? HOW do we summon our loving-self amid such blinding emotions?

It only takes a split second—a willful, courageous split second—to picture your loved ones as their child-selves: benevolent and hurt. Hurt. Because after all, anger, frustration, and resentment, are all byproduct of hurt and fear. If we can take a moment to see beyond the warring-self of our loved ones, then we could change the trajectory of the conversation, and even the entire dynamic of the relationship.

No, it is not easy. But nothing worth fighting for comes easy, does it?