There's Lumberthing I don't want to tell you

[lumberjim]

As I re listen to the power of now, I'm realizing that the huge pill of grief analogy is quite wrong.

That mountain of grief I felt I needed to process one shard at a time. No. Just seeing it as external is the beginning of realizing that it is not me. Looking into the future with dread, how long will I grieve? Will I forever be the guy whose daughter killed herself? Daunting.

But the truth is, I'm just me. In this moment, I'm calm and safe. If my mind slides back to memories or forward to dread, there's the pain. Separate from who I am. It's as easy as recognizing that those concerns are not myself. I'm the observer of those feelings. Insulated at will by the mere observation of the pain. As soon as I see it, it evaporates. There is no pill. Unless I feed the pain.

I've felt the pain of the loss, felt the dread of days to come with her removed. I've cried and fallen down. Do I want more pain? No.

My pain wants more pain. I am not my pain.

I'm just me.

[Clodfobble]

Originally Posted by lumberjim

My pain wants more pain.

This is very real and true. I'm not sure if I'm me separate from my pain, necessarily, but I have certainly observed the spiraling tendency of pain to beget more pain. Today's pain doesn't have to determine tomorrow's pain, and no good comes out of imagining and obsessing over tomorrow's pain just so today's pain can feel even worse.

[xoxoxoBruce]

I guess that's why your dread of well meaning handshakes and hugs, forcing you and the pain together.
Forgive us, we know not what we do.

[lumberjim]

Originally Posted by Clodfobble

This is very real and true. I'm not sure if I'm me separate from my pain, necessarily, but I have certainly observed the spiraling tendency of pain to beget more pain. Today's pain doesn't have to determine tomorrow's pain, and no good comes out of imagining and obsessing over tomorrow's pain just so today's pain can feel even worse.

But you are separate from your pain. Use it to alert you that you are dwelling in time other than the present. See it, suss it, and release it. Stop thinking in words for a moment. Focus on where you are and what you are doing with all of your attention. If you only get 3 minutes of peace, then that's 3 good minutes. It is hard to do, but like anything, you get better at it. You'll have longer gaps in the pain.

[Glinda]

Oh, Jim. I've just found this thread and my heart is breaking for you and your family.

From you latest posts, I can tell that you're working hard to process and accept what is, and I'm glad for that. Just remember that we all grieve in our own way - there is no right or wrong - and sometimes what helps you today won't work tomorrow. Do what you must for yourself, minute by minute. Lean on others if/when you need to, or push them away if that feels better.

[lumberjim]

Thanks Glinda, sorry to bum you out. I give this advice all the time, and taking it myself has been a boon. Acceptance, surrender to it, peace with it.

I wish I could help others do it without being annoying about it.

Her friend posted this

http://youtu.be/2WIOoeAfyQM

[sexobon]

Originally Posted by lumberjim

… I wish I could help others do it without being annoying about it. ...

That's done by remembering it's not everyone's cup of tea. There will be things that work for you and things that don't work for you. Likewise for others. It's fine to make others aware; but, your "helping" them may not be welcome:

10. Express what works for you.

Find your voice, and share with others what you’re thinking and feeling in a rational way. If you continue to communicate with others what works for you and doesn’t work for you, you’ll no longer bottle up your emotions. Expressing yourself is an important part of feeling good about yourself and your relationships.

My psych evals for high intensity military assignments indicate that I'm one of the most emotionally stable people anyone will ever meet; yet, I don't make the conscious effort along the lines that you're doing. Other techniques work for me.

[lumberjim]

You're so fucking awesome. How do you stand yourself?

[sexobon]

By not deluding myself.

[Griff]

Consider what you are doing.

[lumberjim]

My comment was reactionary. I apologize. I know you have no ill intent.

If you have a list that gets you through all life situations, and it gives you comfort or reassurance that you're doing it right, then God bless.

[Gravdigr]

Jim, know that if there was something I could do to change this for you, I would.

[lumberjim]

known.


all I can change is how it affects me. and try to help my son and ex. and mom, and sister, and dad, and ex mother n law, sister in law, etc etc. Amanda not on that list because she's right there with me at this point.


I will not identify with this tragedy, as some folks are wont to do. it's humbling, certainly, but I'll take what positive can be taken, and try not to allow it to impair my ability to experience joy, or love for others.




I also think this calm has come much faster than I expected. Maybe I'm in the 'you're fucking kidding your self' stage of grief.... and I assume there will be moments where I am caught off guard and the tears will come again. for ever i guess?


it's all OK.

[xoxoxoBruce]

As long as you've got Amanda by your side you'll be OK.

[lumberjim]

My concern over my son's state of mind has been assuaged. I didn't know it, but he's been studying philosophy on his own for 2+ years. Listening to a Podcast called philosophize this.

He draws from Stoicism (taken with a grain of salt) and Socrates, and Foucault. Anyway, I'm satisfied that he's not just blocking out the loss. He's just well equipped to accept it.

Still some concern for Shelby, but she has her own support network and doesn't welcome my concern. This is ok too. Her mother is taking it hard, identifying and dwelling in the grief. I spoke on the phone with her for about an hour and a half yesterday, and think I may have cracked the door to helping her surrender to the reality of her loss. I hope. I will follow up.

Just checking in with you guys, really. To let you know that I've turned the corner and the wound is closing. Still itches some, but I can deal with that.

One Moment, Please.