And the (Disenfranchised) Grieving Continues: Emotions as Instructive Messengers

I am sitting here staring at a blank page.

Well, a blank screen.

I have so much to say, and no motivation or energy to say it. So much to do, and zero will or spark to get going.

What am I supposed to do with this grief? I am tired of carrying it around. It's HEAVY, not to mention bulky and scratchy. It's not like I can just put it in my pocket, forget it's there, and then accidentally wash it away the next time I do laundry.

I am doing all the things, got my meds adjusted, getting back onto a schedule, asking friends for help when I need it, writing about it, trying to stay active rather than just sitting at home moping. And I know it takes time, and that I need to let the grief happen, and it's ok to be sad for a while, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.

I know all the things, logically. But the last time I checked, emotions weren't logical. Hell, they don't even seem to care that I have work to do, need to take care of my people, or that the garbage needs to go out regularly. WTF emotions, have a heart!

Then a good friend of mine told me they weren't bad per se, rather to think of emotions as instructive messengers.

I'm tired of learning the same lesson over, and over, and over, but I understand what he means. He means, "What does this grief tell me about myself, my needs, my strengths and weaknesses, and what I need and value in my relationships?" Goddamn him, why does he have to be right so often? Because you know what that question is? Logical. UGH

pulling my hair out

Not sure I want to go through all of this with the entire public interwebs, but let's try it. What does this grief tell me about myself?

Well, first and foremost, I am not ready for any type of romantic relationship. At. All. I've had this one, kinda, and it crashed and burned like a motherfucker real quick. My heart is still fragile. I had just taped it back together with some old masking tape I found in the back of the junk drawer, hoping that would do the trick, but it didn't. My heart needs time to grow new muscles and valves, unclog the cholesterol, and get pumping. There is more I need to work through before I even consider a relationship again.

Next, I trust too quickly. I always thought this was a good quality, but I am realizing that, in everyday practice, it's really not. Grand scheme, big picture, yes. A blanket trust that the world is full of good people is not a bad thing. But I need to be more discerning, and not just spill my guts to the first person that comes along and says nice things to me. And actually, this is about my self worth. I need to feel like I am special enough to protect, that someone needs to earn my trust because I am worthy. I wouldn't let just anyone date my kiddos. Why do I not hold the same standards for myself? (Yeah, that's a whole 'nother ball of misogyny wax we'll get into some other time.)

Finally, I can't handle any more unrecognized relationships. As I was Googling for this article, hoping to find something new or different to say about grief, the only thing I could find that was new to me was the term 'disenfranchised grief'. "Disenfranchised grief, also known as hidden grief or sorrow, refers to any grief that goes unacknowledged or unvalidated by social norms. This kind of grief is often minimized or not understood by others, which makes it particularly hard to process and work through." (1)

The article goes on to explain I was in an 'unrecognized relationship'. "If you felt a need to keep your relationship private for any reason, you may not know how to express your sorrow when your partner dies [leaves]. People may also struggle to understand when you mourn someone you never knew. This might include:

• LGBTQ+ people who aren’t out and feel unsafe grieving the loss of a partner

• polyamorous people who lose a non-primary partner, particularly when no one knew about their involvement

• the death of a casual partner, friend with benefits, or ex-partner, especially when you remained close

• the death of an online friend or pen pal

• the death of someone you never knew, like an unknown sibling or absent parent." (1)

As any member of the queer community will tell you, this is a big deal for us. It makes perfect sense.

The short version of this for me is that the person I was with wasn't out in all areas of their life, and when push came to shove, went back to the safety of what they knew. They just weren't ready. Of course, I completely understand, respect, and support that, but that doesn't mean they didn't leave an enormous hole in my masking taped heart. And that I didn't act out in ways I now deeply regret because I did. Remember, I wasn't ready either. It was a perfect storm of a lot of different factors. So I have learned something about myself, no more unrecognized relationships.

Well, that's entirely enough for now. I'm spent. I'll end with a witty quip in my next article, I promise.

(1) https://www.healthline.com/health/mental-health/disenfranchised-grief

Photo Credit: https://unsplash.com/photos/a-pink-heart-cut-out-of-a-piece-of-paper-CRVXYGwZtXQ?utm_content=creditShareLink&utm_medium=referral&utm_source=unsplash