Day 5: Self-care
I’ve learned that in the process of grieving, it’s important to listen to your own needs. (My psychology school calls this self-care.) I’ve been really aware of what I need right now, and I’m listening to everything my heart and gut tell me. This is rare for me, I’m realizing.
I got happy hour with my friend Kristen tonight. She is someone who I’ve always wanted to be more friends with, someone I see not just at parties. When she invited me out the other day, I found myself really excited, and I knew that it would be good for me to see her. (It was; she is so empathetic–a therapist in training!–and is so full of hope.)
Other friends and relatives I’ve avoided on purpose; I’m resistant to talking to them for some reason, and I’m honoring that in me.
I have five read, but unresponded-to emails in my inbox. (Thank you, all of you, who wrote those.) The thought of responding right now feels too exhausting, not what I need.
I made comfort food for dinner last night. I let myself weep. I took an extra-long break during class today to talk to Randy and sob till I felt better.
In the trauma work we did in Theology II last term (with everyone’s favorite, Shelly Rambo), I learned how clinicians and well-meaning friends like to think they know what’s best for the grieving. But this isn’t true. There are certain “best practices” for being with a grieving person–like avoiding platitudes and advice, letting them cry and kick and scream–but ultimately the person needs to figure out what’s best for them. The clinician’s job is to roll with the punches. (My words, not Rambo’s.)
I’m thankful to those who have given me space to grieve the way I want to. I am also thankful for the variety of ways people have interacted with me. I have good friends who send me texts all day–texts about classes, people they interact with, Netflix must-sees. I have other friends who check in on my every morning; others who check on me every night. Some I’ve heard from only days one and three. Some I’ve heard from only days two and four.
I am thankful for the emails, the sad smiles in the library, the oblivious cheerfulness. I am thankful for those who say, “You don’t need to tell me anything.”
I am thankful for Steven who bought me vermicelli and Emily who sends me feminist critiques of Lewis.
I feel cared for, and I feel compelled, then, into more self-care. This is good; this is how you care for a broken heart. I told Kristen tonight that I know I’m doing as best as I possibly could be in this situation. I have room to laugh and cry in the same sentence–that’s good and OK.
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I still have much to grieve; I still have so much anger and confusion in my heart. I still don’t know how to live with Nathan well for the next to weeks. I don’t know what life post-grad will be like for me.
But as Julian of Norwich says, “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.”
Amen.
June 14, 2014