Every time we are hit by trauma, we usually will resort to one or a few widely common question(s)
Why me?
Or
How could God do this?
Or
What kind of a God could do this to people?
So we either question the probability of us being the black ball out of that bag, questioning the routine that we have come to rely upon. Or we question our faith.
So the existing perception of your surroundings, the universe, your life and that of others swiftly takes a back seat and these questions are all that emerge and rule your heart. What I feel gives me hope rather than the fact that these questions might be viewed as wayward or blasphemous is that we question the biggest constants of our lives.
Now these questions may not have an answer. At least not right away. What they do have are underlying emotions. It could be overwhelming sadness, it could be rage or it could surprisingly be peace (even for yourself).
What I want to do is to embrace that emotion instead of getting wound up in finding the answers to my questions right in that moment. Those questions will remain Unanswered for a while. Since grief resolves or rather, as I say, dissolves (it’s diffusion not osmosis. It doesn’t go away, it dilutes) itself over a long period of time, we slowly recalibrate our relationship with our religion or whatever system of the universe we identify with. This can mean different things for different people. Some might come out with a weakened connect whereas others will end up with a much deeper and stronger resolve with reference to their faith or whatever they were questioning, self or collective.
I look at things in a more sensory manner. Since everything I know changes it’s axis, it is like how our feet hold on to the ground when we get off the escalator. Trying to gain some orientation or semblance of sanity as the world around me goes on exactly the way it was going on earlier, I step out of that inertia with a jerk. Our life is experiencing a stillness where we stand, feet in concrete questioning our realest realities. Everyone around me is moving but for me time has stopped. It’s like I’m stuck in a parallel spiritual existence staring at my surroundings with eyes glazed. It’s difficult to see everyone continuing to function like everything is normal while I am unable to move a proverbial (or spiritual) limb. In my world everything has stopped. Nothing is the same. Topsy Turvy and unrecognisable.
That stopping of everything and the moments of stillness are the wound. The wound where the light gets in. That is where I feel we can really hone into the underlying emotions as well as noticing everything about our lives in so much more detail. Realise that everything is amplified. You can notice the different shades of green in a leaf or different types of people that walk past you on a busy road instead of ignoring their existence. I remember I would go and plonk myself again the Kings Cross Railway station for hours and just look at the roof. See the intricate details, notice their beauty ponder about the history of the architecture and building. Ive even examined the old school chips (Mosaic) floor outside the Karachi airport entrance in great detail the night my Grandmother passed away and I spent 5 hours at the airport waiting for the next flight I can catch. The hullabaloo surrounding you dies out and you can focus on a little ant walking along its merry way or analyse the relationships you’re in. You notice how people react. Towards you and your grief. Who is willing to welcome you with your dilapidated story at that time and who is not and even if that person is super Important in your life m, they might not be the one you’d like to call upon in that space. You might even feel the urge to talk to a stranger instead of those who you can normally relate to and that’s also just a way of welcoming those who your grief connects you to. I’ve had people call me and help me grieve the night my friend was shot dead who I hadn’t spoken to in years and haven’t spoken to afterwards ever since. Yet they were the most important and pivotal in my journey of grief. If you’re in the middle of grief, it’s an adjustment period. The realities and needs of this time might or might not remain true forever and they don’t need to. I
Take that stillness as a gift and use it to re-evaluate everything your life is. Frankly I’ve had a divorce come out of the stillness of losing a loved one. A dead beet marriage I was too arrogant to admit was failing for a while. However the relationship I’m in now only tends to grow stronger and deeper with every bout of grief that comes my way. Just an example.
The reality of grief is that some people need to slow down while others need to speed up. Some will curl into a ball in the corner of a room rocking back and forth or just not speak to anyone while another will scrub down the entire house or organise a counter top or alphabetically arrange the spice rack! What is key is to accept and bless that part of yourself. Accept whatever is your way to manage grief for yourself. What is most important for you in this moment is what is real for you right now.
What Also helps is Ritualisation of sorts. Whatever works for you. For some, setting up incense and candles and a soothing bath on a regular basis will help. For others praying will do that. For some taking a walk at the same time every day will be a source of comfort. For others, bawling into the clothes that still smell of your loved ones might be their jam. Give yourself that space and do what you need to do.
The one thing that I have learned having experienced trauma and grief stemming from multiple things including loss is the need to be kind.
There is not only a lot of judgment from outside of the grief process but also a lot of it from one’s own self. For someone grieving, tough love is not love. It’s just tough and crass. If as an outsider you feel that will help, then you’ve never allowed the light to enter your wound since you lack that empathy to be able to feel what the other is going through. We all know our limitations. Stay away from the grieving if you are this person. You’ll cause more damage than being of help.
Don’t judge yourself for being weak or floozy or weepy for way too long. Respect your grief. Dwell until you’re ready to not dwell. Figure out what works for you and do that.
What is important through grieving is this.
The need to be gentle. Not only others being kinder to the grieving one but being gentle to one’s own self too.
