Life Outside The Lines

Whatcha Grievin’, Bro?

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Doubt…

is a powerful neurotoxin. The way we human beings are, we don’t just need to know something, we need to know that we know it. This is part of what makes scientific discovery so amazing. It’s not just that they figured something out, it’s that they overcame the doubt that is inherent in us that couldn’t have been overcome by going to someone else and saying, “I think I figured something out: is this right?” But as long as there is some doubt about something, our minds are incredibly adept at presenting us with reasons why we’re probably wrong. To quote a book I have been reading, “As uncomfortable as I am with (discovery X), I do not believe we should sit on our results until we can find a reason for them being wrong (that too is not a correct way to do science).” But to dispel this doubt, what do we do? We communicate. We bring our thought to someone to check it, to air it out, to get an outside perspective. Otherwise this neurotoxin metabolizes, paralyzing us. 

This process is something that is called social validation. It says that we will naturally and automatically seek the guidance or approval of others in the presence of doubt. When it comes to emotions, we all, perhaps men especially, engage in a game of “emotional chicken.” It looks like this: I feel something that I just don’t know if it’s valid or not. Am I overreacting? Being oversensitive? Perceive something inaccurately? I want to get an “objective” perspective on it. So, I casually, without any emotion or leading words, mention it to someone. I don’t get much of a response back, so I conclude that my reaction must have been overstated and I tell myself that I need to move on. 

Grief and Identity

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Life is full of challenges. There has never been anyone who could say that they did not suffer or experience setbacks. We struggle to move forward but sometimes experience more retrograde motion. What makes some people able to cope and overcome the vicissitudes of their existence and others to crumble beneath them is still somewhat of a mystery for psychology. May was dedicated to increasing awareness of mental health issues, and though this post is not quite in time technically, it is still a good opportunity to reflect more on the challenges that we all experience in life, and grow in appreciation for those who suffer psychologically.

Grief is a reality that touches so many of us along our voyage. Loss is inevitable, and all losses touch us in a deep way that leaves us changed for the rest of our lives. My and Amy’s experience of losing Gianna Rose certainly matches that description. If you’ve followed Amy’s writings on this blog you certainly have a sense of the earth- shattering effects of losing an infant. We were just watching a TV show that depicts a prisoner who has been given hope of receiving a crucial medication she had been deprived of, only to have that hope dashed. It was a good example of psychological torture – building up an artificial hope just to smash it to pieces. The end result is worse than never having had the hope in the first place. That is a shadow of what it was like to experience Gianna getting bigger, bonding with her as she developed throughout the 10 months of pregnancy, only to have her stolen from us when she was a mere 4 days old.

We all have a picture of ourselves in our mind. It’s a complex one, involving our strengths, weaknesses, virtues and flaws, how we see humanity and God, good and evil, and whole host of other things that are woven into a single tapestry that is what we call our identity. You look in the mirror and you see one image staring back at you. Sure, we all have incongruities and disintegrated parts: that is the work of personal growth that always lies ahead of us. But we see ourselves as one and it makes sense to us most of the time. This sense of who we are informs much of our behavior and provides us with a sense of stability that supports what we do in our day-to-day lives. We aren’t usually aware of the role that our sense of self plays, and it can certainly be taken for granted. [Read more…]

Grief’s Layers

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I was speaking with someone not long ago about the layers of grief – all the aspects of life that are affected by loss which you do not – cannot – consider until you experience it. The loss of a loved one, especially a baby, I think, sets off a domino-effect that leaves few stones unturned, and that is what Amy and I have experienced.

The first layer, the dense core, is obviously the unspeakable, gut-wrenching loss itself. We went into the hospital expecting to return home a few days later with our baby girl. Amy had spent the entire previous night laboring in the bathtub with me at my post at the door, timing contractions to determine the right moment to go to the hospital. It was literally the entire night, from about 10:00 when her water broke until around 8:00 the next morning when it seemed that the contractions were a few minutes apart. Amy didn’t sleep, and neither did I. We dozed for maybe a matter of minutes here and there, so when we arrived at the hospital Amy was already exhausted – we both were. Then ensued hours of labor that stretched into the evening, culminating in an emergency C-section just before 6. Normally, the recompense, especially for the mother, after hour upon hour of labor, is holding your precious one in your arms. Of course I can’t say what a mother would feel at that point, but I’ve heard that everything she endured seems worth it. So imagine what it was like when we got into our car to return home with an empty car seat in the back, a visual representation of the hole that had just been brutally punched through our hearts.

Naturally, life does not just go on as it did before. Another layer of grief is the way our outlook of the future, our plans, and our dreams, were forever changed. The way we envision what is yet to come and the aspirations we have for the future create the trajectory of our lives and motivate us to get out of bed in the morning and keep spending ourselves to make those visions a reality. When you cannot envision your future anymore or connect with the dreams and aspirations you once had it is very painful and disconcerting. Amy and I found ourselves adrift, bleeding, lost at sea with no current and no wind to bring us in any direction. A thick fog engulfed us, obscuring any familiar feature of the landscape to orient us. Grief deluged us every time we awoke and realized that what had happened to us was not just a horrible nightmare. Who were we? Would we survive this? Would we ever be really happy again? When would this deluge of grief end? The answers to those questions were anything but certain. [Read more…]

Grief and Memory

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When it comes to grief, memory can be a two-edged sword. Memory and I are frenemies. We all experience it to a point: you’re going about your day and, out of the blue, you remember something that you wished you hadn’t. What triggered it, why you remembered it at that moment is often a mystery.

Memories of something so traumatic such as when we lost Gianna are a little different. They often come up unexpectedly, prompted at times by the littlest things. But when they do come up, or when I willingly conjure them up, the experience is very mixed. Memories are all I have of my daughter – four days of them to be exact. I cherish those memories, and at the same time they stab me in the heart. I don’t wish I hadn’t remembered, but the pain is the other side of that same coin, inextricably interwoven with the cherished thread of memory. [Read more…]

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