Dealing with loss
Perhaps it's the culture that drives the ideology that, boys or rather men do not cry, has permeated it's way into my biology and now I physically can not cry. I am not a stoic, I enjoy joy and I do know that sorrow does tarry through the night, in feeling feelings we are more likely to be empathic to those who are doing poorly. Personally, I may never get to fully understand the degree to which a person is grieving or jubilance that gets one jumping all over the room. I do understand that there are cues to look for that help me to cross reference with my own emotive actions, it could be a sheepish smile, the cracking of one's voice or even silence.
While talking with a significantly older friend, the subject of the conversation was about a very tragic event that claimed countless thousands of lives. I was telling him how surreal everything surrounding the situation felt to me, in his response to me, he highlighted the fact that we all process trauma in different ways. That aided me, as I often wonder why I am not as eruptive with my emotions as some of my companions, at times I feel as though I am a geyser compared to the volcanoes that surround me.
It's not as though the past half decade has been full of only sunshine and rainbows. There have been moments where I sought to cry but nothing happened. Surely as the psalmist says tears have been his food, I am malnourished in terms of that diet. I find it inadequate that when I grieve I don't get to the point of sobbing. There is an image I have of tears being stormy day, and some point in the storm rays of light break through and a rainbow becomes visible. This, being that, at times all that one can do is cry, although it may not change what has happened, it brings some soothing to the soul.
This lack of eye juice makes me question, whether or not I am properly processing matters. What if I am carrying things under the surface that need to be dealt with unbeknownst to myself ? I think about all the matters that bring me down. I can't play video games with some friends within arms reach of them, my mother's hugs and kisses have become a somewhat distant memory, people who I once saw first thing in the morning and lastly before sleeping are now just names on my notification bar, that person I thought maybe I could get to be with and it didn't work out, that job opportunity I didn't hear back from since last Christmas,Arsenal not winning the 2022/23 premier league season, my school, social and spiritual life falling out of balance, it scares me that I don't know my own breaking point. I don't know if I want to find out either.
Grief is universal language with many translations, and I'm learning to identify my dialect. It's a matter that requires patience, I know I'm a culprit of trying to get past sadness as quickly as I can, perhaps which is why I would like to produce tears on command. The process is not that simple, and far too often we do not give grace to ourselves, which leads to frustration about why the blues are not gone yet. In fact it's not entirely impossible for one to be ambivalent, to let out a smile even though you can't seem to go half an hour without falling apart. I say that it is quite alright to be having mixed emotions, you can't keep each feeling in its own jar, because those jars will break due to the turbulent nature of life.
Sorrow is better than laughter, for by sadness of face the heart is made glad.
Ecclesiastes 7:3 ESV
It's definitely not guaranteed that life will be rosy. The beautiful part of mourning is that there are lessons being etched into our hearts. Somehow the things we acquire when we are mirthful do not resound as much as what we learn in the grieving.
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