A Journey through Grief
by
Sandy Hay


There is nothing that can test ones recovery more than a journey through grief. My journey sent me crashing back through ten years of spiritual growth and recovery, making me 'feel' as if I had put all my faith in a program that had ultimately let me down. The key words, of course, are "made me feel as if". In reality, it was my program and my growth that held me up while I was deep in the depths of despair.
My journey began when I discovered that the pregnancy I had so celebrated and longed for had come to an end after only 10 short weeks. I was not prepared for this eventuality, having never been informed as to how common an occurrence this was. I was also not prepared for the depth of emotion I would experience. Having grown up in a family where emotions were not encouraged, I had learned early on not to feel or acknowledge my emotions. However, one of the celebrations of my spiritual recovery has been the 'recovery' of my ability to emote appropriately.
Surrounding myself with 'those of like mind', my 'recovery buddies' both friends and family, I began the journey. The grief hit me like a powerful wave. I cried and cried. I was reminded again and again to feel all the feelings and not allow anyone to minimize them or tell me when I should be finished feeling them. But, having never allowed myself to go through this process, I had absolutely no idea where it was going to take me. If I had, I may have stopped, stuffing my feelings so I would not have to continue the journey.
One of the blessings I have gained by working a strong spiritual program of recovery is a sense of myself as a strong, capable adult. I have pretty much easily been able to take care of myself and have gained a lot of ground in my work on my self esteem and self worth. Suddenly, however, I felt about as weak and as unsure of myself as I did before I entered into a recovery process. There were so many emotions, ones I could identify, and still others I had no clue to. I had no idea what to do with them all. I knew I could shut them off, I was an expert at that....but I had made the turn away from that behavior and I would not go back. Thank God for those around me who were willing to let me talk about them, cry about them and shout about them, without judgment. They were all good models for me to be able to emote without self judgment as well.
It is hard to put into words what those highly emotional days were like. Some emotions would pound in my head, others would tie my stomach into knots. Still others would tighten my chest until it was hard to breathe and my heart pounded in my ears. They would leave my knees shaky and my arms rubbery. Many times I felt that I had turned on a faucet I would not be able to shut off again. When they were not raging, I could feel them just under the surface ready to spill out without notice or reason. And always, there were my friends and family, assuring me that what I was going through was normal, was expected, and would end eventually. I hung on to their words, my lifesaver amongst the waves.
Coupled with the emotions, were the thoughts. The 'what ifs' and the doubts. 'What if this were all my fault?" "What if I had too many negative thoughts?" "Maybe I am just not good enough for this?" Doubts and fears whirled in my mind as fast and as furious as the emotions had taken over my body. I have always had a tendency to over intellectualize everything. I was certain there was a reason for this to have happened and although everyone from the doctor to the minister assured me there was nothing I did to cause this, I felt I had. Logical thought was not possible, for I could no longer distinguish logic from illogic in the midst of my despair. Again, the people by my side helped me see it, and even though part of me denied their words of wisdom, a deeper, all knowing part heard, and believed.
After several days, what I thought was the worst of it seemed to subside. The waves of emotions were not coming at me as frequently. There just seemed to be an all encompassing lethargy of sadness that had overtaken my very being. This sadness would overwhelm me at any, mostly inconvenient time, and the tears would flow, but they would not last as long, or feel as intense. I began to think that I was near the end. But I did not realize what would come up for me next, although not as outwardly obvious, would be inwardly just as traumatic.
If the emotions were leveling out, the thoughts were becoming more intense. Mind games I had not played in ten years started up. Feelings I recognized as old behaviors but could not stop plagued me. This was the worst time, because I felt I could not reach out to my support system, my codependency was raging as it had not done in a long time. Feelings of unworthiness made me believe that my friends and family had had enough of listening to my problems. When I finally would struggle out of my funk long enough to talk to someone about it, I was assured this was not the case. I was promised that I would be listened to any time, for as long as I needed. But then the whole thing would start again the next day and I would spend hours in isolation knowing that no one really cared.
I started obsessing on my relationships with others, to an extent I had not done in years. If my remarks in casual conversations were not noticed, I would be devastated that no one cared to listen to me. Friendly jibes I had found amusing just weeks ago were now seen as personal attacks. Friends spending time with other friends besides me was proof of my unworthiness. I also found that I was neglecting my needs. I would forget to eat and go too long feeling tired but not going to sleep. I felt I was losing my mind.
As I had mentioned earlier, all of these behaviors and thought patterns were not new to me. I had struggled to overcome them during years of study, support meetings, prayer and meditation. I knew what the tools were to defeat the negativity that swirled within me, but, somehow I could not lay hands on them. I felt betrayed by God and my spiritual program. I could not bring myself to pray, meditate or use the affirmations that had brought me so far in my recovery. For days I moved in and out of these minds games, at one moment feeling okay and then suddenly rabid with thoughts that were somehow not quite my own. This was when I noticed something, something that was subtly different about my situation now than it had been when these behaviors were my mainstay ten years ago.
I was detaching from them. Part of me was looking at myself going through this process as an observer calmly noticing everything and knowing it was not the truth nor permanent. My program was at work, I was not my feelings. They just were, and that was all. When I began to notice my detached self more, I began to be able to listen to it, rather than the mind games. The thoughts and feelings that my spiritual side had betrayed me began to lessen as I saw them for what they were, the inevitable anger generated from a loss. I began to listen to some spiritual music, for music is a powerful trigger for me, and bit by bit, a measure of peace began to warm my inner self again.
Surrounding me were flowers and cards (both real and virtual), e-mails, message board posts, people asking about me and caring. I began to see all this, finally, for what it really was. I AM a special person. Look at all the lives I touch in such a way that they feel compelled to reach back when I am in need. I began to believe this again, and to feel the love that connects me to God and to everyone I know and love. I felt now that I could walk through the pain and grief that I could still feel strongly inside me with my self esteem intact. I recognized my needs again, I stood up for my boundaries. All with this gnawing ache inside that was what was left of my grief to deal with.
Now, as I write this, I have no idea where the journey will lead next. I still have a lot of grief work to do. There are thoughts and pains I still have yet to figure out. Tears still come unexpectedly and sadness can lay hold of me for hours at a time. But it all feels different than even a week ago. There's a strength that is flowing back into my spirit. Well, the strength never left. If it had, I would not be writing this now. No, the strength I have gained by embracing the spiritual path I am on, has healed me in ways I can not even fathom. Of that I am certain, for this journey through grief has shown me my strength, my strength I always had and always will. The strength that comes from being a Child of the Kingdom

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