Some Broken Hearts Cannot Be Mended
Some losses are not overcomeable. Sometimes no glue exists to fix your brand of a broken heart. Sometimes you are thrown a devastation that you will have to live with for the rest of your life. Some questions won't have answers. There are simply things that you can not understand, get over, or move on from. Sorry to let you in on this unhappy truth.
In this culture of instant fixes and #happinessgoalz, we want to believe that people can rise from any heart-wrenching loss and claim victory over it. That the story ends "happily ever after", and we can leave the theater surrounded in all the feels and warm fuzzies, our bellies full of popcorn and our minds delighting in the possibilities of a perfect life! We, myself included, want to believe that people are inherently good, broken hearts can heal, and we are going to live a life immune from great suffering. And, that if we do have a trial, it will be an opportunity to show the world how strong and amazing we are! How solid our faith is! That we are overcomers! Right . . .sorry to throw a big ole dose of truth in here, but I've been doing a lot of research, soul searching, and involuntary dissecting of words and platitudes, and I'm here to tell you, the good guy doesn't always win, some hearts cannot be mended, everything does not happen for a reason, and some things you'll take to your grave - there will be no getting over it. No learning to live with it. No redemption in this lifetime.
As the clock ticks off each painful minute, the days turn into months, and the seasons in Minnesota go through their dramatic changes, I am finding that our devastation really has no place to live, no place to just be, no place to land. The general consensus seems to be, pack that all up in a box, put it high upon a shelf, and you can take it down occasionally and look through it - preferably on those allowed dates; i.e. Anniversary of Loss, Birthday of Deceased, and maybe the holidays - for a couple of years.
I've been reading books on how to grieve, why we should be practicing biblical lament, and last night, one on how our culture shames you into being "okay". You know what I'm learning from this reading, instead of how to "overcome" this devasting loss?
- To keep it to yourself
- That you basically get one month to get over it in most peoples minds
- That the western culture's idea of grief is to get out of it as quickly as possible
- That staying sad means you're not doing it right
- That people will stop talking about your loss, and you'll be expected to stop bringing it up
- That the lady who wrote about the five stages of grief was, in fact, writing about the stages of terminal illness and what that looked like, and later regretted writing the stages the way she did
- That there are no stages of grief. No one way to do it. No right way or wrong way. No time limit.
- That time does not heal. Period. If anything heals, Jesus heals. I won't "heal" from this loss. I will carry it.
- That comparison has no place in pain/loss/suffering.
- That being "shut down" by a comment is very unkind and very unhelpful. If someone in grief actually feels brave enough to share with you, and you feel the need to respond with a comment, interrupt with a comparison, or a platitude, instead of listening with understanding, you have just successfully told them that they are not free to speak, feel, share or grieve around you
- Clinicians are trained to see grief as a disorder rather than a natural response to deep loss
- That quite possibly, you might never be okay again
In her book "It's Okay That You're Not Okay", Megan Devine, states: "Grieving people are met with impatience precisely because they are failing the cultural storyline of overcoming adversity. If you don't "transform", if you don't find something beautiful inside this, you've failed. And if you don't do it quickly, following that narrative arc from incident to transformation within our collective attention span, you're not living the right story."
"There's a gag order on telling the truth, in real life and in our fictional accounts. As a culture, we don't want to hear that there are things that cannot be fixed. As a culture, we don't want to hear that there is some pain that never gets redeemed. Some things we learn to live with, and that's not the same as everything working out in the end. No matter how many rainbows and butterflies you stick into the narrative, some stories just don't work out."
So why I am bogging you down with this? Well, if you're grieving, I want you to know that you're not losing your mind. Your feelings are valid. You are experiencing the cultures push to meet their goals, but friend, their goals are not valid. You get to do this your way, in your time, and I call BS on anyone who tries to fit you into any preset mold or box.
You cannot live with this type of loss and reconcile it with the thought that it will all work out in the end. Guys, my son died. He was 24. It was an "unnatural order" loss. It isn't something you can fix for me. It isn't something that I'm going to get over. It isn't a loss that will dull with time. HE WAS MY SON! I didn't lose a dog - I can't go out and get a puppy. There is nothing in this life that will replace John. I will live with this broken heart for the rest of my days. Some of those days will be okay. Some will not. Somedays, I will handle it better than other days. What we grievers need to understand is that it's okay to be devastated. It doesn't make you a failure at grief. You are not on a timeline. You get to do this however you need to. We've heard everything from how angry we are, to how extremely well we are handling things. From I don't know how you do it, to, If it were me, I don't think I'd be able to get out of bed.
Megan Devine, whose book I quoted earlier and will post a link to below, holds a master's in counseling psychology, and she says: "After Matt died, I wanted to call every one of my clients and apologize for my ignorance. Though I'd been skilled in deep emotional work, Matt's death revealed an entirely different world. None of what I knew applied to a loss of that magnitude. With all my experience and training, if anyone could be prepared to deal with that kind of loss, it should've been me. But nothing could have prepared me for that. None of what I'd learned mattered."
So my point here, dear readers, is this. You can't fix us. Your ideas about how our grief should look are irrelevant. Before you offer your comments, think about that. Do I have experience in this? Should I speak into it? Do I know that what I am saying is true/helpful/relevant? We are going to go through what we are going to go through. The best way to help is to be kind, patient and loving. I've had to step back from some things - as I am finding that my emotions are getting harder for me to control. I am still trying to wrap my head around this thing. You may think I'm strong and taking on loss and addiction with both guns, but I am not. I simply am not okay. My husband is not okay. My daughter is not okay. We are teetering on a precipice every day, and we'd appreciate a lifeline and not a push. We, quite frankly, will never be that version of okay again. And you, my fellow grievers, may not be either. And that's okay. I think being honest is okay. Just like with addiction, people aren't going to understand it unless they've been through it or touched by it.
But by speaking out, I think we can help those around us understand our mindset, our hurt, our struggle. Ms. Devine also points out that "Like many grieving people, we stopped talking about pain to friends and family. It was easier to pretend everything was fine than to continually defend and explain our grief to those who couldn't understand. We turned to other grieving people because they were the only ones who knew what grief was really like."
I don't know about you other grievers, but I am exhausted from trying to defend how I feel. So why keep trying? Well, again, it's my hope to shed even the tiniest light on this subject for those who are following behind. For the people I know that cannot voice their lament, for the newly bereaved struggling with how to find their way through this. I could sit quietly and "pretend" that I'm handling all of it with optimism and strength, but that wouldn't be true - in fact, it would be deceiving, and I don't think that helps anyone whose searching for answers.
Click here for Megan Devine's Book:
In this journey, you have to come to know yourself, to understand your triggers. To know what you can handle and what you cannot. It's okay to take a break from what's expected and the requirements you've placed on yourself and that others have placed on you, and just get centered. I am finding that continually taking my questions and hurts to Jesus, and spending time in prayer and the Word, are my saving grace. Along with that, having a circle of other grievers to reach out to is paramount. I also wouldn't be standing without my friends, old and new, the church, and am continually blown away by our youth and how willing they are to stand in the gap! Thank you, young friends! I am also very thankful for those who reach out to me, as most days, in my loss and introversion, it gets more difficult to do the asking - trying not to be a hermit and a burden is a daily battle.
Fellow griever, you need to find what works for you, preferably things that are non-destructive and non-addictive, and then take the time needed to let some scar tissue form around that heartbreak. Sometimes, toughing up might mean avoiding certain people/places/events. That's okay. Saying no doesn't make you a bad person, in fact, it may be the smartest thing you do for yourself today.
Just remember that you are not alone, even if grief feels like a total separation, you are not alone. There are many online communities of people who share a similar story, there are support groups, and there is the One who never leaves you or forsakes you. He is the only one that truly understands your pain. Run to Him dear one, let him hold you. You are safe with Him. The biblical lament is just that - telling God honestly how you are feeling. He knows you're angry and sad. He welcomes those honest questions. He isn't fragile or afraid of your feelings and hurts. It's okay to tell him that you're devastated, disappointed and mad. That your life isn't what you were hoping it would be. That you're not okay and that quite possibly you're blaming Him for not intervening or stopping the tragedy from happening. He knows your heart. He knows you're thinking it anyway, so why not work out the conversation with Him? He won't be offended and He won't walk away. He understands.
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