We have a curious event in April in Michigan. We call it "daylight savings time" and what it basically does is cause all of us to change our clocks. Now we do this twice a year; spring and fall and I've had some difficulty remembering which way the clock goes - forward or back - pretty much every time the clock requires changing. Well, in April we move the clock forward and this means we lose an hour of sleep and that generally requires a good week or so for my body to make the adjustment. For a week or so nearly everyone in Michigan walks around tired and out of sort as their internal "body clock" makes the shift. I have no idea who thought this up but I wonder about the wisdom of it all. It also points out the reality that time really is a relative thing; an arbitrary construction of man.
I find it curious that in some cultures time is only marked by the sun - morning and evening and everything in between is just there. In our culture we are so time-centric that we strap little clocks to our wrists and program alarms in our cell phones to keep us ever aware of the time. What does all this have to do with grief?
We really are formed and informed by our culture and our western culture tells us that there is a time to grieve (preferably done in private so as to not upset others who really don't want to be confronted with such "negativity") and that time is as short as humanly possible. Anything over a year is pushing it and when you get into the third or fourth year, like I am, you are pretty much out of time.
Well-wishers will tell you that it's time to move on down the road and get on with your life. Look to the future and forget about all that loss and grief in your past. It's all behind you now so just get on with it! Wouldn't it be great if we could just take off grief like an old coat? It would be so much easier if at the one year anniversary of the loss of a loved one we could change our "grief clock" and put all that sadness behind us. We could "spring forward" into a new season of only happy thoughts and feelings. If anybody out there has a clock like that - let me know.
I have not found any grief-clocks. I've actually made the mental adjustments at key points along the way to attempt a "time change" from grief to anything better than grief. At the first anniversary of David's death - and then again at the second and third I set my mental clock forward. I gave it a good try at our 30th wedding anniversary and at my 50th birthday. I did my best to set my mental and emotional state ahead to brighter, springy days. I can't say that it worked all that well. Time is a relative thing; prone to change and subject to our whims and perceptions. Some days I am clearly living in "springy" thinking and other days I am falling back to grief's darker days. Grief does not work like a clock; always moving forward and making progress. Grief is all over the map; forward and backward and sometimes unmovable and stuck. It's all pretty relative.
So give yourself a break and take your time. There is no point in rushing through it because grief will do it's work in all of us according to its own good time. I think I'm making progress - but then again, tomorrow I may find it time to "fall back" again. I'm resolved to finish the work no matter how much time it takes.
Now if only I could get our culture to stop watching the clock and let grief keep its own time. Well, that's another topic and one that you and I are not able to change. so... tick tock... time's a wasting! I'm closing down the pink mini laptop and getting on with the day without any clue as to what "time zone" I'll be in today. Grief or gladness? Forward to new days, backwards to memories of great days with David? Probably all of the above in no particular order. That's the nature of grief. Whatever the day holds I am certain of one thing (really, I'm not certain of anything these days except for this!) God has my heart in His hand and He will help me through this day. He is with me. He is for me. -
He is with you too! He's not in a hurry - He's got all the time in the world and He's willing to spend it with you. Go God!!
Well, get on with the week - Time's a wasting!
Showing posts with label displaced grief. Show all posts
Showing posts with label displaced grief. Show all posts
Monday, April 26, 2010
Monday, March 22, 2010
Kill the Cat
I once had a cat named Tiger. He was a part of our household for 10 years. You notice I didn't say he was a part of our family. Not because we didn't care for him and make every attempt to make friends. Tiger just wasn't interested in making friends. He was an antisocial cat. Not evil or scary- he just had no real use for people in general and was prone to being "up close and personal" only when he wanted something from us. Come to think of it I know a few people like that - but I digress.
Well Tiger was a cat we rescued from the pound but the fact that we saved his life and gave him every luxery a cat could hope for was totally unimpressive to him. He came into our home with a sense of superior entitlement and never wavered from that general attitude. Come to think of it my kids resembled that same attitude from time to time. I digress again. Sorry.
Well, one fateful night about a year ago Tiger - who loved the great outdoors begged to be let out. He was a mouser! He would proudly catch mice and spit them out on the sidewalk for David (my husband) to find when he came home from work. David would always praise him and scoop up the dead rodent so I would not get all hysterical about it. A curious sidebar: When David died Tiger went through a year of mourning. For one solid year he caught not a single mouse. On the anniversary of David's death I came home to find a mouse on the sidewalk and Tiger close by waiting to see if I would reward him. I didn't. You get more of what you celebrate and I did not want to add scooping up dead mice to my daily routine. I did not however, scold him because he clearly had respected a widow's grief and his "master's" death- for one solid year! Pretty good for an antisocial cat! So Tiger went outside and somewhere in the woods he met his match. Some critter bigger and meaner than him got ahold of his tail and the wounds were pretty extensive. We rushed him to the vet and after examining him informed me that they could not put Tiger back together again. I gave them permission to end his suffering which seemed to be pretty intense. Now here's the thing I find quite strange.-
I did not like Tiger. He was generally more trouble than he was worth. He was a wining, annoying, antisocial cat. But when he died...I cried. Hard. Long. Loud. I asked my psychologist friend what that was all about. (sidebar: If you don't have a psychologist friend you should get one - they are useful!)She told me that it was not uncommon that a small loss- even years later- can trigger the same response as the larger loss. Feelings of loss trigger a floodgate of emotion that seem disproportionate to the situation. Displaced grief. My tears for Tiger were actually tears for David and memories of how he cared for Tiger - and for me. David loved Tiger. So I did my best to tend to the cat and scoop up his "trophies" and give him a humane death. It cost me $300.00 to "kill" the cat! Even in death Tiger was annoying!
Displaced grief overtakes me from time to time. I never know when it's going to strike or with what force. At least now I know whenever my emotions seem to be more intense than the situation calls for that it is normal. I'm not crazy or emotionally unstable - just grieving. And it does seem to get better with time. Then again, I still have Fred - our oldest and dearest cat who laid in David's lap during those last days of David's life. When Fred dies... it could get messy.
If you're dealing with some displaced grief - it's OK. It's annoying and confusing but you are not crazy and you will be OK... in time. Go ahead and cry or shout or whatever seems to help and then get on with life. I'm moving forward and I do manage a smile everyday as I walk up the sidewalk and don't have to stop for the rodent removal ceremony.
Hang in there.
Karen
Well Tiger was a cat we rescued from the pound but the fact that we saved his life and gave him every luxery a cat could hope for was totally unimpressive to him. He came into our home with a sense of superior entitlement and never wavered from that general attitude. Come to think of it my kids resembled that same attitude from time to time. I digress again. Sorry.
Well, one fateful night about a year ago Tiger - who loved the great outdoors begged to be let out. He was a mouser! He would proudly catch mice and spit them out on the sidewalk for David (my husband) to find when he came home from work. David would always praise him and scoop up the dead rodent so I would not get all hysterical about it. A curious sidebar: When David died Tiger went through a year of mourning. For one solid year he caught not a single mouse. On the anniversary of David's death I came home to find a mouse on the sidewalk and Tiger close by waiting to see if I would reward him. I didn't. You get more of what you celebrate and I did not want to add scooping up dead mice to my daily routine. I did not however, scold him because he clearly had respected a widow's grief and his "master's" death- for one solid year! Pretty good for an antisocial cat! So Tiger went outside and somewhere in the woods he met his match. Some critter bigger and meaner than him got ahold of his tail and the wounds were pretty extensive. We rushed him to the vet and after examining him informed me that they could not put Tiger back together again. I gave them permission to end his suffering which seemed to be pretty intense. Now here's the thing I find quite strange.-
I did not like Tiger. He was generally more trouble than he was worth. He was a wining, annoying, antisocial cat. But when he died...I cried. Hard. Long. Loud. I asked my psychologist friend what that was all about. (sidebar: If you don't have a psychologist friend you should get one - they are useful!)She told me that it was not uncommon that a small loss- even years later- can trigger the same response as the larger loss. Feelings of loss trigger a floodgate of emotion that seem disproportionate to the situation. Displaced grief. My tears for Tiger were actually tears for David and memories of how he cared for Tiger - and for me. David loved Tiger. So I did my best to tend to the cat and scoop up his "trophies" and give him a humane death. It cost me $300.00 to "kill" the cat! Even in death Tiger was annoying!
Displaced grief overtakes me from time to time. I never know when it's going to strike or with what force. At least now I know whenever my emotions seem to be more intense than the situation calls for that it is normal. I'm not crazy or emotionally unstable - just grieving. And it does seem to get better with time. Then again, I still have Fred - our oldest and dearest cat who laid in David's lap during those last days of David's life. When Fred dies... it could get messy.
If you're dealing with some displaced grief - it's OK. It's annoying and confusing but you are not crazy and you will be OK... in time. Go ahead and cry or shout or whatever seems to help and then get on with life. I'm moving forward and I do manage a smile everyday as I walk up the sidewalk and don't have to stop for the rodent removal ceremony.
Hang in there.
Karen
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)