Emotions are a powdery storm. You wake in the morning free of feelings. But as soon as a sad notion enters, you’re helpless in the thick of the mess. When you emerge--maybe with a fresh thought--that powdery residue is still on you. This is why it’s so hard to shake off grief no matter how diligently you try. Your moments of success are still tinged with muck.
When life was normal, you carried through mostly good moments tinged by the occasional sorrow. When grief hits, it’s the opposite. Mostly sad, tinged with good. I notice even today how shadowed I can be by the cloud of a dark thought. These are non-grief thoughts, such as a memory of something hurtful a person said, or a disappointment in my response, or some other nuisance we all experience in a day. Silly little miniscule memories that no longer matter. Even though the thought moves quickly past, the shadowy feeling that accompanied it remains. You may not notice the collection of dark feelings left behind until your mood is completely overrun with sadness or depression.
If inconsequential memories are haunting, then grief barrels us over. There is no making good of such an event, no talking yourself out of it, or belittling its effect. When grief hits, it takes charge, carrying you off wherever it goes.
I used to wish I could just get out of grief, like a bad carnival ride. Grief, too, has a powdery residue of sticky emotion that stays long past the time you think you can bear it. Longer, of course, than the dark feelings you used to have, more persistent, and much harder. It’s the inescapability of grief that makes it so hard to endure.
Today, “mindfulness” is a very trendy word. I was reading a novel recently where the author made fun of this new craze, observing that not much would get done in the world if we all solely focused on the very moment we were living in. Meditation encourages us to escape the pain of our struggles by mindfully focusing on anything but, such as breath or an image. I try to practice this daily and it does seem to stretch a bit of mental freedom into the space that comes after the practice. But you cannot always escape the residue of emotion.
Just knowing the limitations of my ability to repair emotions is comforting. I can notice my suffering and simply shrug. Yes, there it is again, whether or not I want it. Do what you can with your thoughts. Your mind is trying to help by staying alert to trouble. Notice. Refocus (gratitude helps a lot), try again. And when the dark feeling is still there at the end of the day, remember it’s the residue of your earlier emotions.
Tend an inner garden so your evening battles will be smaller. This is work. It’s an enormous effort to observe yourself, to manage your thoughts, to find healthy ways toward reprieve. And the rewards come in small doses: an hour free of pain, a morning of peace, a day without tears. It’s easy to just give up and let the storm of grief and fear and pain lead the way. But those small rewards that come from this hard work are everything to live for now. They will lead you out of grief in time as they stitch together in larger passes. And you’ll grow strong, trusting yourself to weather any storm. Take a deep breath now and push away the cloud in you. You’re in charge.
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