I once asked a therapist friend how one should or could grieve. “Do I just sit there and think about the loss?” I wasn’t sure if this was productive. I had learned as a teenager that a wonderful way to cope with sadness and hopelessness is to do something productive. So, I had enrolled in as many extracurricular activities as I could. I had studied until my eyes couldn’t stay open every night.
She gave me a few ways: listen to sad music, write letters to the people I’ve lost, look at pictures from the past, and/or watch sad movies. As I was going through my divorce a few years back, I had tried to write a novel based on my marriage. I knew I needed 3D characters, so portraying my ex as all bad was not an option. Honestly, neither is that the truth. We both played our respective roles in the demise of a 15-year relationship.
Every time I tried to dip into the good parts of our relationship through the veil of fiction, a dark, thick gray cloud took over me. My hands got heavy, and my eyes got teary. I had to abandon the project after two attempts.
Maybe I’m more ready now.
How does one know when they’re ready to grieve? Could I have been ready before?
I can look back at our relationship without flinching now, although there will always be a fine layer of sadness for all our shattered hopes and dreams. Maybe that’s the sign for being ready to grieve. But how could I have gotten here in the first place if I had done zero grieving? It’s another one of those chicken-and-egg problems.
But I’m here now, no matter what wayward way I took to get here. Let me get comfortable on my grieving cushion and settle in for the long nights.
