Hall Of Fame
Posted on | August 25, 2010 | No Comments
as written July 8, 2008
I, Monica, heretofore (on celebrated encouragement from The Woman) induct myself into the GRIEVING HALL OF FAME. And in commencement of such a momentous occurrence, I will follow the ceremony by throwing myself a BIG. FAT. WHOPPING. PITY. PARTY.
YeeeeEEEEEE HAAAAAAAaaaAAAA, BITCHES!!!!
And off I’ll go, lopping heads like the Queen in Wonderland if I so see fit, swipe my mighty Trident under the seas, cry a million tears so that my heart will need an Arc, scream and rant profanities until even Eminem covers his ears, and huddle in a pathetic little mass of brokenness until I want to lift my head again. I get to do this this time! I GET TO! And fuck me running there ain’t nothing gonna STOP me from fuming and gnashing my teeth against the insensitive unfairness of it all, least alone my UNSURPASSABLE INNER GUILT FOR NOT ALWAYS HAVING A SMILE ON MY FUCKING FACE.
Phew.
And why do I get to do this now? Simple. Because I never learned how to grieve. I always brushed off anything that hurt me, trying to pass myself off as someone much stronger than I am. I always tried to see the bright side of things in order to not even LET THE PAIN REACH MY HEART. The thing is, though? Is that pain STARTS in my heart. And if I don’t let it seep out as my heart pumps (the locomotion of my emotions down to the bottom of my feet and top of my head), then it stays locked inside of me. Boiling under the surface or frozen under glaciers…never finding release or relief. Until, some innocent little resentment or comment from someone steps on one of my LAND MINES and BAM! it’s turned into insta-Nagasaki minus the twelve hour plane ride.
This, this reality simply cannot be buried within me. I am my own imploding volcano that ruptured against the tropically green islands, and my lava flows and insatiable fires are simply there – and I have to let it burn. I have to immerse myself in this pain in order for it to find its way out of me. It’s literally, the only way I can survive. It felt so good to have The Woman explain to me that this is actually the right way to go about grieving…and after she saw the look on my face amended: “But most times grief is a simple thunderstorm, not a massive volcanic eruption.” And…I could breathe again. Because if THIS is what grief feels like every time I need to feel my emotions about a loss of one thing or another? Then cut me off here, Charlie…I’m going to HEAVEN straight after this 7th shot of tequila.
All I know is that I’m a Hall of Famer when it comes to this here grieving. Someone give me a fucking medal, y’all. And in light of said grieving, I think I’ll pay attention and see what I’m learning tonight:
-We do a lot of emotionalizing: secondary emotion (fear, so be sarcastic). Being NUMB is a feeling.
-“Whether someone can handle it or not, TELL THE TRUTH.” (When people ask how you’re doing). One of you need to be the one to break the cycle of dishonesty. Let it be you.
-Codependency is being emotionally drunk or high. Recovery is being emotionally sober…
-A popular technique used by many of us: “I have to blame you for how bad I feel.” They’re projecting their shame on you. Or mine onto them.
-“It’s prideful to think we know what’s best for someone else” –The Woman. Prideful, huh? Well, if pretending to be God is prideful then…I supppppooosssssse…
-“You have to be in a place of humility when someone is attacking you.” –The Woman
-“Validation handles EVERYTHING that cannot be handled.” On simply listening and acknowledging that something is hard for yourself or anyone else.
Okay. Enough seriousness. Let’s get this party STARTED. Ingredients: 4 tissue boxes. 1 box ho-hos. 1 lighter to burn his smelly ass socks. ZERO photo albums. I wonder if the DI has any Tridents…
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