I would rather be a fish
Week 3 I entered "the angry stage" with one foot still in "the sad/very sad stage." I'm told there are no prescribed steps or logical progression. Anne Lamott likened grief to a lazy Susan: "One day it is heavy and underwater, and the next day it spins and stops at loud and rageful, and the next day at wounded keening, and the next day numbness, silence." (From Traveling Mercies)
But oh, the angry stage gave me much needed energy. First it helped me get up early, get to the library, churn out assignments, and be home exhausted in time for bed so that tears don't have time to attack. The anger also compelled me to purge. "It" is no longer, so bye-bye to all these unnecessary reminders of "it." Sorry, it is a tad dramatic, but it helps. And I'm all about help these days. Although there are some things that can't be deleted - like my memory - some can be trashed or "recycle bin"-ed. Are you sure you want to delete these 304 items? Yes. *Crunch*
Lastly, the angry phase made a lot of sense - or at least a bit more sense than the sad/very sad phase. It gives the illusion of being logical. Like, I could get some sentences out instead of the sobbing and the wailing, the pounding things and the sprawling on the floor. (No, seriously. Ask the cat. He heard/saw me). There were names to feelings and thoughts. I was (and am) angry at the ex and at the other person responsible for everything: God. I'll spare you from the details of how and why I'm angry at them. And I'm also praying that it resolves/dissolves or sheds light into something else.
But this much I'll say: This indignation tells me that deep in my heart I think I deserve better. Despite being told, in spiritual/religious language, that I don't deserve anything. If I have things it's because I've been given them. I don't necessarily disagree or want to debunk this - at all. It's just, the "The Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away" line makes God sound like such a tease, and I don't know how I can trust or follow a God who is a tease, or mean, or mischievous. I'm not asserting or promoting He is; I'm saying how it feels sometimes.
Isn't it so much easier, if we're all just accidents at the universe's whim; instead of creative, thoughtful, purposeful spiritual beings? With free will? With needs and dreams bigger than just food, shelter, and procreation? Sometimes I envy dogs and cats. Or fish.
Okay, so you're thinkin', this is all a bit heavy (and dramatic! and emotional! and intense!) just from being dumped. You're right. It is. Unfortunately it's me. I am not just a bit dramatic and emotional and intense. I am a lot. Especially when I'm bleeding. And this thing bleeds everywhere else, through countless cracks and broken areas that have for a long time been hidden or undiscovered. Perhaps that's what I'm actually angry about. The cracks. The broken areas. They gape at me.
"There is a crack, a crack in everything, and that's how the light gets in." Oh, Leonard. I sure hope so.
I'm told there are chapters (stages, phases, etc.) ahead. The next one could be better, could be worse, but at least it's the next, which makes me hope it is nearer the end. Then, I won't have to subject you to much more of these sorry, self-indulgent little postings (but they help, and I'm all about help. Plus hey, you can always skip reading). Unless Anne is right about lazy Susan. Well, then I might be here again.
So, hope it's near the end. I know hoping doesn't make it so. But what choice do I have?
No comments:
Post a Comment