Do Introverts Grieve Enough?

A friend on social media posted (or I should say re-posted) an article from last year on the three types of grief people don’t discuss.  I happened to be taking a 5 min mind break at work, and read it.  I wish I had left it to later in the evening.  If I were smarter, I would have realized that from the title alone.

Sitting there, in my cube, reading 3 Kinds of Grief Nobody Talks About, I had a powerful emotional moment.   One of the kinds where you feel like your bones might break from the weight of it.  

“Grief is not always about death, but it is always about attachment and separation.”

Attachment.

Separation.

I’m currently going through the process of selling my home, building a new one, and moving into a temporary place.  My whole life for the next few months will be transitional.  I’ve been looking through closets and cupboards purging things that I won’t be taking with me into this new chapter of my life (or even into the interlude before the next chapter).

Occasionally, a level of unexpected emotionality will just hit me. “Pretty soon, I’ll be out of here…. This will be the last time I do <x> here…” 

And then the big whammy, “When I get to the new house, I won’t have any memories of my dad there”.  Cue the waterworks.  I have to remember to take deep breaths and think about puppies.

I remember having similar feelings when my car died and I had to get a new one.  I cried.  I didn’t cry because of the car, I cried because of the memories it represented.  It was the physical manifestation of those memories.  Losing the Batmobile (yes, I called it that in my head), I lost the ability to see and to touch those memories.  Like the memory of pranking my dad by turning on the seat heater in July without him knowing.  I can still see him shifting uncomfortably in the seat.  I finally couldn't hold my laughter in any longer and let him off the hook.  He laughed and was glad nothing was wrong with his "@$$."

I was attached to the car not because I'm materialistic, because of my memories.

I knew what my dad felt sitting in my car or in my house because I was there with him.  I know because I experience the same environment firsthand.  I know this sounds weird.  I could tell that my boyfriend at the time thought I was being weird.  He was smart enough not to verbalize it, but I could tell nonetheless when I said farewell to the Batmobile.

Moving on to new places and things, there’s no connection.  There’s no attachment.  I’m separating myself from what I knew and the life I have lived to create a new type of life.  I’m cutting one cord, and grabbing on to a new one that not everyone I’ve cared about has experienced. I also have no idea if new attachments will be forged.

I already grieved the loss of my dad, as he passed away a few years ago.  But, I never thought about the anxiety I go through during big changes, like I’m going through right now, as a form of grief. That in making these memory attachments to “things” and “places”, I go through yet another grief cycle when those things are gone too. I hate feeling this way.

If you’ve read any of my other bogs, you have probably figured out I’m quite an introvert.  There are days I just want to wear a sign that says “Can’t people today, #SorryNotSorry.”

What are the main traits of introverts?  We live in our heads, we typically aren’t outgoing people, we tend to have a smaller group of friends, and we like being home.  We like controlling our environment.  We limit our attachments to people.

If we have limited attachments, we have less opportunity for separations.

If we control our environment, we have a larger control over the probability of separation.

If you are an introvert.  You suffer less separation.  But when it happens (at least to me) holy !@$!%!.

“Grief is not always about death, but it is always about attachment and separation.”

Attachment.

Separation.

What if the real reason I’m an introvert, isn’t some random genetic trait?  What if it comes down to one simple thing - the ability, or capacity, to grieve? 

Could I be less socially awkward and introverted, if I simply learned to be more comfortable with the loss of, or change in, relationships?  What if I just need to learn how to be more efficient at the cycle of grief?  Or fear grief less?

Maybe I do need to grieve more, but I sure as hell don't want to....

The Big Little Lies

***Spoiler Alert*** This week is referring to the book “Big Little Lies” by Liane Moriarty and hits a little on the HBO series based on the book.

Please do not read if you haven’t read, and plan on reading, this book or watch the show.  If you have read, or do not have plans to, then feel free to continue.

I was reviewing my monthly budget a few weeks ago and realized that I had not ever, once, finished an audiobook I had purchased through my Audible account.  I looked into canceling my account and I found out that I’d lose the monthly credits I had built up if I did.  Bummer.

So, as to not “lose” money, I went on a quest to find audio books that I actually thought I might listen to.  I’m more of an “eye” person when it comes to books and my ears typically preferred music, so wasn’t having much luck.  Then, I saw Big Little Lies.

I had seen the ads for the HBO show.  I remember Shailene Woodley running down a beach, Reese Witherspoon with the guy from Parks and Rec (not Chris Pratt, Rob Lowe, or Ron Swanson - it’s the other guy), and Nicole Kidman.  Nicole Kidman!

Aside: I’m not a big fan of Shailene Woodley.  She probably is a wonderful person, but ever since an article on her where she described re-usable feminine hygiene products, I’ve been creeped out and don’t go out of my way to watch her movies.

The TV show has Nicole Kidman and Reese Witherspoon.  It has to be classy, right?  So, I purchased the BLL Audiobook, along with a couple others from different authors. *BOOM* Credits used, time to cancel the account.

I downloaded the audio, and started on my journey to a Sydney suburb with lots of rich white people.  I wasn’t expecting to enjoy it, but I found myself not able to stop listening.  I’d listen while in the shower, in the car, at work (which led to some very bad spelling and poor spreadsheet execution, but I digress).  I even started watching the show before I had finished the book.  

Another side note:  the book is better than the show, unless you want to see Kidman’s boobs, the book doesn’t have those. I believe they may have gotten their own credit at the end of the show.

So what is so compelling about the lives of three suburban Australian mothers?  The story itself was well crafted.  You don’t know who the victim is until the end.  You see the juxtaposition between what actually happened and the recounting of events through the eyes of those around them (throughout the book and show, the story is interrupted by interviews with witnesses).

*Spoilers incoming*

What really got to me was something on a much deeper psychological level.  Each of the three main protagonists were abused in some sort of way and each were in different phases of recovery.  Madeline was the furthest along, Jane’s in the middle, and Celeste really hasn’t started yet.  Their stories, when told together, mainly get to the crux of recovery from abuse.  It also delves into the internal conflict that happens when women are abused.  Some of it, to be honest, was a little scary to me.

Madeline’s husband left her right after their child was born.  He just told her “I can’t do this” and walked out.  She was left to fend for herself and her child.  She put her head down, got a job, raised her daughter.  She eventually met Ed, married and had two more kids.  Her marriage with Ed seems pretty stable (in the book, the show handles her marriage a bit differently).  She still harbors resentment for her ex, who now lives in the neighborhood, is remarried, and is back in his daughter’s life.  Madeline is struggling with the “injustice” of it all.  He’s married, has a beautiful wife, is a doting dad for his new daughter, and his older daughter eventually moves in with him, leaving Madeline behind.

How can someone who was such a complete dick, end up getting the perfect life?  How does that even happen?  Aren’t people supposed to reap what they sow?  How long do we harbor anger? How can someone who wrongs you so completely not have any lasting effects?  Her story focuses on her anger, and the struggle to let it go.

Jane’s pregnancy was the result of a one night stand that morphed into sexual and emotional assault.  The father of her child turned out to be a callous, horrific, mean person.  I won’t go into details of the assault, but he broke her down as emotionally as he did physically.  Jane left law school to have her child, and spent the first few years of his life making ends meet as a bookkeeper, silently worried about whether her son would be genetically predisposed to violence and cruelty.  A running storyline is that her son was accused of choking a girl in class and subsequently bullying her.  She defended him as any mother would, but was also afraid he might have done it.

How do we pick up the emotional pieces once the physical ones are healed?  How long do we let that power linger over us? How long do we harbor fear? How many of us hold on to fears as if they are real tangible things?  Like a poisonous snake we are holding by the head and we’ll get bit if we let go?  Her story is about fear, and the struggle to let it go.

Celeste.  Poor Celeste.  This is the real gut wrench of the book as you slowly come to realize that her perfect marriage is a sham.  He beats her and sometimes she fights back.  She loves him, she feels he loves her.  She thinks about leaving, but realizes she could never love anyone else.  She keeps this to herself, never telling anyone about the abuse.  He never hits her in places where it is obvious, so no one suspects.  Plus, who'd expect such a beautiful couple to have such an ugly secret?  The abuse continues to escalate to a point where she is in bed for several days “sick”.  She then finds out, through one of her twin sons, that her other twin son is the one abusing the little girl at school and not Jane’s son.  She also finds out he has been bullying another girl as well.  All that time, she didn’t think her boys had seen what their father did to her.  She finally realizes that her boys are as affected as she is.

How do you come to grips with reality?  How long to you harbor the lie?  How long do you convince yourself that it’s ok, or will be ok?  How long do we stay in situations that aren’t healthy?  The scariest parts of this book, to me, are the rationalizations Celeste uses to stay.  You don’t get the internal dialogue in the show as you do in the book.  As you read (or listen to it), it makes perfect sense:

• “I escalated it”
• “I should have just walked away”
• “I shouldn’t have said it”
• “I shouldn’t have asked him to do <X>”
• "I have so many things that others don't, I have no right to complain". 

How many times do we say these very same things to ourselves?  Her story focuses on the lie she’s been living, and the struggle to let it go.

I won’t ruin the murder mystery and plot twists only to say that while the story focuses on the lives of Celeste, Jane and Madeline, the other mothers have their own stories.  We get flashes of those stories in how they each react to the events surrounding the murder.  You understand more of their motivations and their own lies that they’ve been living - e.g. Tough Renata’s marriage has its own issues and mellow-tree-hugging Bonnie is fighting her own demons.

This was such a good book. Frightening, but good.  If you don't plan on reading it, please reconsider.  If nothing else, maybe you can learn the spot the big little lies your loved ones might be telling you (or you might be telling yourself).

I Love You But I Don’t Like You

“I love you but I don’t like you right now” - that’s a phrase my mom would use when at her wits end.  Luckily, I never drove her to this, but others certainly have (you know who you are).  It’s only recently I’ve realized the wisdom in that sentiment.  

This past week, our beautiful commonwealth was subjected to yet another media mud fest between our governor and state AG.  This whole situation past the point of ridiculousness sometime last year. I’m just embarrassed that adults can’t work through their issues in a positive way without resorting to Facebook videos, tweets, and selfies.  Yes, I’m talking about grown men who were elected to lead, not teenage girls.  *cough*

For some reason, while mulling this situation over in my head, my mom’s words came back to me: “I love you, but I don’t like you right now.”  

How would this whole situation be different if our elected officials would stop treating each other as opposition?  What would happen, if people would simply start from a place of love. How would the conversation change, if people were to speak to each other like they would a family member or a teammate?  Now, I'm not talking about froo-froo lame love.  I'm talking the kind of love where you can be honest with each other.  The kind of love where you give the other person the benefit of the doubt and work through your issues.  I'm talking full on phileo-level love.

You are my fellow human being.  We’re in this [state/country/world/community/church/school/workplace] together.  We’re on the same team.  I don’t agree with you and you drive me nuts, but I understand you have a reason for [thinking/doing/saying] what you do.  Help me understand. 

Granted, this doesn’t always do the trick.  People who love each other still argue, fight, and fuss.  Sometimes, it still feels like a one sided conversation when the other person isn’t engaged.  But, I’d argue we are much more likely to forgive and listen to those we care about than those we don't.  We’re also more able to laugh at ourselves and each other.  We also are more able to call each other on our respective crap and help each other become better people.

Our state just seems to be a microcosm of the national climate.  We have people in power now that seem to focus on escalating conflict versus working through it.  We have various groups of people who are just as focused at escalation (e.g. Madonna’s consideration of blowing up the White House.  Seriously?  I mean..  seriously??? /insert Material World joke here). 

Social media is FILLED with hate and spite right now.  Complaining, gloating, and baiting.  All because we see the other side as the opposition.  “Those” people want to remove my rights.  “Those people” want to kill babies.  “Those people” refuse to listen to reason (meaning they refuse to agree).

I keep going back to that lesson I learned from my mom.  I can love you without liking you.  I can love you without agreeing with you.

How much could we accomplish for climate change, women’s rights, human dignity, end to violence, compassionate immigration, effective education, and overall public discourse if we just decided to see each other through a lens of love.

What if it's that simple?