I am TERRIFIED of their power. I am afraid if I really let them out, really cried, the weak hold I have on reality would be gone for ever.Last year as I was trying to work through yet another layer of adoption loss, I was finding myself terrified of the deep grief I was beginning to acknowledge. It was so deep, so... all-consuming. I was at a loss of how to even describe it. One day I was reading a post over at Suz's blog "Writing My Wrongs", where she described being at an adoption-related conference and finding herself being swept down into a pit of despair, and thankfully someone behind her noticed her distress and put their hand on her shoulder, helping pull her back to reality. (I tried to go find that post, but kept finding myself lost in reading other old posts of hers and losing track of time so I gave up. If somehow you don't know Suz's blog, you need to check it out!)
I so clearly remember reading her words about the fear of that pit of despair, and it was as though I was reading an exact description of the fear I hadn't been able to put words to. That fear of falling into the depths of my grief became very overwhelming last fall, it was with me constantly. (Brought on I'm sure by the beautiful October day that I finally got to meet Christopher in person.)
I don't know what the point to this post is, I guess I just found myself lost in the remembering about the deep fear of losing myself to the grief. It's still there ~ the fear of falling into that pit. Somehow I was able to bury it again, to not be overwhelmed with it. I wish I could find somebody who could help me safely face an express the grief. I feel as Suz speaks of in her comment:
Its a safety mechanism for me. A protection of my mind and soul and life I live today. In saying that I realize that approach has an effect on this life, but negatively effecting my life and still living is better than not living at all. I hope that some day I can truly get through it all, somehow, someway, with a safe person that I can be confident will get me through the agony and pull me out to the other side. Until that day comes, it stays in side and seeps out every now and then.
So maybe I need to stop thinking of my inability to cry as something wrong, and think of it as something keeping me safe until I am able to face those deep emotions. Now if only I could find a way to do that...