The Gift of Grief

“I believe you may be one of the most intelligent and high functioning patients I have ever encountered. I have never met someone as resilient and in touch with who they are. I find you fascinating.” — Nancy Whiteley (therapist)

“I have never met someone as receptive and in tune with their body. I stick these pins in you and your entire body literally vibrates with energy. Jennifer, you are empathetic and compassionate. Those are huge strengths and beautiful qualities. However, it is not your responsibility to take everyone’s issues and traumas as your own. You need to protect yourself and say internally ‘This is yours, not mine.’ in order to draw a distinction, otherwise you will be swallowed by the sorrow." — Carlos Durana (acupuncturist)

Over the last week both my therapist and acupuncturist have made similar comments about me. I am alone in my own head all day, so it really is fascinating to get an external perspective. However, it wasn’t until today that I really began to pinpoint the emotional swirl that has been occurring internally.

Nancy: “So what was the straw that broke the camel’s back? What made you make that brave phone call and walk into my office?”
Me: “Something happened deep inside of me when Jenn was diagnosed with breast cancer. It had been building up several months prior to her diagnosis, but that was what pushed me over the edge. I experienced a swirl of emotion that I could not explain, nor were my tactics for coping alleviating them. I mean, if three Xanax a day wasn’t helping, I knew I was in over my head. Matt was also concerned about me, not that I would hurt myself or anything, but that I didn’t seem like myself and he knew I was hurting.”
Nancy: “That swirl is what PTSD feels like. You are grieving. Do you realize Jenn has given you the gift of grief?”
Me: “I’m sorry. I don’t understand. Isn’t that an oxymoron?”
Nancy: “Grief doesn’t just come from death. You have experienced significant and great sorrow in the last eight years. You are grieving on a primary level for your own suffering and loss battling breast cancer. And you are also grieving on a secondary level for Jenn.”
Me: “Why didn’t I grieve when I was going through treatment?”
Nancy: “How could you? You were so focused on getting through the day or even the hour at times. There is a huge difference between coping and processing. And both have their place and are valuable. You needed to cope while you were going through your treatment … and now it’s time to process, grieve and heal.”
Me: “Is there a right way to grieve? I mean, how do I even know if I am working through these emotions or just continuing to cope?

Nancy: “Think of yourself as a flag with holes in it. You feel the impact of the wind, but it is able to continue moving through you. That is what working through emotions feels like. Now, if you pull down the garage door and don’t allow yourself to feel the wind (the emotion), that’s coping.”
Me: “OK, I understand the distinction.”
Nancy: “There is an utter loneliness and desolation in grief. You have been dropped vertically into a profound emotional depth. If you can continue to stay in this place and feel deeply, you can heal and recover quickly, but it’s going to be intense and emotionally exhausting.”

I am ready to face this thing that my friend Kere refers to as the “cancer of emotion.” I feel like if I can face these feelings, I can find peace and perhaps even live happily ever after with my amazing husband-to-be.