Complicated Grief, grief part II

I looked out over the south rim of the Grand Canyon and thought about the epochs of time it took to shape such a place. I always heard everyone say pictures don’t do it justice. They were right. No matter how panoramic I tried to make my camera, I simply could not capture the essence of the place. It was so vast, so deep, so timeless; beyond any picture I could take.

I happened to be at the Grand Canyon on a particularly beautiful day in August. To the right, a rain storm had risen and turned the clouds into hues of periwinkle and purple. The rest of the canyon lay under a bright blue sky and fluffy white clouds. Because we were in high desert, the horizon is broad. You can see several skies at one time. 

Changing light lit up the canyon’s rock layers into contrasting pinks, beiges, reds, oranges and browns. Each layer laid down at a different point in time, the canyon is a mile deep and the size of the state of Rhode Island. It has become my favorite place to reflect. And during my last visit, I spent some time thinking about complicated grief.

Society says grief turns complicated when someone remains stuck and unable to heal after a year. For trauma survivors, complicated grief takes on a whole new meaning. Grief is as wide and as deep as the Grand Canyon. Laid down in layer upon layer through the formative years of our lives, it continues on to adulthood. Each memory, each situation, each loss waiting to be acknowledged and grieved. A year? For trauma survivors, that’s a drop in the bucket. How about a lifetime?

Following is a description of the symptoms of complicated grief from the perspective of a trauma survivor. 

1.Feelings of loss don’t improve on their own even after time passes. Events, memories and experiences remain frozen in time. Often the person has grown used to living in a constant state of underlying sorrow.

2.The person remains caught in rumination about the circumstances of the loss. Often, the person will replay disturbing events, conversations and choices over and over without any resolution.

3.Resorting to excessive avoidance of  remembering the loss. Deep denial is a way to survive. Awareness of horrific loss is kept away from the conscious mind because it is too unbearable to process.

4.Feeling tossed helplessly upon the wave of intense emotion. Despite efforts to keep grief at bay, emotions bubble up to the surface. These emotions may be things like anger, feeling overwhelmed, frustration, annoyance, depression, rage. These are secondary waves of emotion covering over an ocean of grief that lies beneath.

Grief is complicated for survivors of trauma because there is so much to process. It is not a one time loss or a death that has a beginning and an end. It is the occurrence of multiple assaults, rages, beatings, mind games, disturbing events, threats, intimidation and dominance over years and years. All done while a child is first forming their perspective and understanding about life. 

But there is a way out. And it is not around or under or over. It is through. To walk the path of grief is to walk the path of healing. I have a favorite book I try to read once a year called  “Hinds Feet on High Places.” It is an allegory about the journey of life. The lead character has an interesting name: “Much Afraid.” When confronted with her journey away from the “fearing family,” she is given two guides. One named “sorrow.” The other named “suffering.”  She must take the hand of each of her guides in order to have the strength to walk on the high places. 

If survivors want to move into joy, we must first take the hand of sorrow and learn what it has to teach us. There is no way around it. The way is not easy and no one would choose it, but joy is waiting on the other side. Defy trauma, embrace joy, but first, take the hand of grief.

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Disenfranchised grief-pt. 3

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grief-1, The funeral