A Grief Observed

For anyone who has read CS Lewis, there's a stark contrast between his books "The Problem of Pain" and "A Grief Observed." The difference between them is, one is a book on the theory about pain from someone who had not yet really walked through anything tragically painful, while the other is about the practical experience of losing his wife. There IS NO COMPARING these two books, as they are worlds apart from each other. That's the problem with experiencing something first hand- it becomes real in a way that you didn't really understand before you walked through it. That's what this post is about- the feeling of loss and how to recover from tragedy.

I can hear anyone who knows me say, "no one close to you has died." And that is, in essence, true. I've never had a friend, a lover, or a family member I was really close to pass on. I haven't. I have had a bout with insanity, however. When that happened, I lost way more than I can easily put in words. Several things transpired during my illness. I was thrown into jail. I was physically assaulted by a police officer. I had medication injected into me against my will (multiple times in fact). I had a tube shoved up my penis. And I spent a sum total of four very long months in captivity in a mental hospital, without the freedom to do what I wanted. For me that was just the beginning. I lost some of my friends. I lost my spiritual home, to which I could not return to. I lost my job. I lost so much that I cannot express in words the ache I feel from the losses incurred. It hurts like hell. Where do I begin? I don't know. If I got honest, life has been a great, intense pain for me. Rejection is life.

I know some of you are wondering if I'm just here today to complain about the injustice of it or the sadness of it. No. I'm not. Right now I'm trying very hard to let it go. It's hard for me. The things that happened as a consequence of my illness were extremely hurtful and sad. I'll never be the same. I won't! I can't. The interesting thing is, if I had lost an arm or a leg or something like that, I think it would be easier for people to grasp the size of my loss. Instead I lost my dignity, my freedom, my trust in God. It's sad losing friends, a spiritual home, and a job, but picking up the pieces afterwards has been exceedingly difficult for me and I'm not entirely sure why. I guess part of it is I never thought in concrete terms what all had transpired. I went through hell, and I'm one of only a few people who know what it's like to be incarcerated in a mental hospital for four months. I know what it's like to basically lose everything. It still hurts when I think about it.

Now, now that years have passed and I'm supposed to be better, I'm thinking about the catastrophe that befell me in a different light. I'm looking for the collateral beauty in it all. It's hard. I don't think you see- it's not just A LITTLE hard. It's very hard. I'm beginning to see it though. I'm a deeper person because of what happened. And I understand mental illness in a way that few can. I know it first hand. But let's get back to the deeper part. I know what pain is in a way few can relate to. So when I meet someone who is going through hell themselves, I'll be able to connect. I've been there, done that. I know what that's like. And you know what? When you have been through the worst, it gives you a deeper appreciation for everything. Life is precious. We don't have time to waste. It's time to "get busy living or get busy dying" as "The Shawshank Redemption" said. I think I understand that better now than I've ever understood it. It's God's honest truth. I don't think I can forget it. We can't let the worst of life ruin us. There's too much at stake. Got to get back on that horse and ride it. Life was meant to be lived, not just observed. I'm just starting to see how important it is to move on. Hopefully you all will forgive me for taking my time while I've been on the mat, but getting up after this fall has been as hard as hell. However, I think it's time to get off the mat...