At first, it’s the news of the event that punches you in the gut. Maybe you were expecting it or maybe not. My most recent bout with it was the former. I knew the news was coming. That’s the gift and the curse of being an INFJ—you can read every little nuance in words and deeds. I had hoped that what I had intuited was not the case, but my hope was misplaced.
For two weeks, I tried to over-ride my knowing at some points and then accept the inevitable at other times. It was like a slow removal of the bandage when all I wanted was the “rip it off” action to happen.
Disappointment upon disappointment piled up in that time period. I finally decided that when (mind you, I had accepted that it would be when and not if) the next text request to “reschedule” occurred I was just going to respond, “I’m not surprised. I expected it.” So, that’s what I did. You have to know that my preference is to have difficult conversations in person and not via text or on the phone. I need to see the other person talk with their body so that I can tell if they mean what they say. For me to be so bold in a text meant I had waited as long as I could to hear the truth. And so, the bandage was ripped off via text.
In some ways, I completely understand why this friend (and yes, he is still a very close friend in many ways) would choose texting over face-to-face. I can be emotionally intense. I own it. I’m sure he needed the space barrier for protection and to stand strong. I don’t hold any ill feelings towards him. He managed the situation the best he could. Besides, it’s not like I gave him much of choice. I was at my wit’s end and needed to just get on with the painful outcome.
Now, I’m living with the loss. I thought that I had prepped myself in the two week period for it. I seriously believed that it would be no big deal since I knew it was coming and because I had already cried it out while listening to sad music. Now, I’m replaying all of the Greatest Grieving Hits: I’m Such a Fool (not a huge Blake fan but Christina’s voice is inspirational); It’s Too Late to Apologize/Stay With Me (thanks One Republic for the live performance of this combo); Love Song (the Adele version); I Will Always Love You (both Dolly and Whitney, I still can’t decide which one I like better…Dolly’s is pure while Whitney’s is powerful); Pray (ah the voice of Sam Smith groaning the way my soul does now) and for today Hurt (one of the best Johnny Cash songs ever in my opinion because you knew he lived the words).
It seemed like it was the worse it could be yesterday, but what I realized this morning is that I was still numb then—but not this morning. Oh, no! This morning the pain killing magic of the natural endorphins that flooded my brain the 24 hours prior were not to be found and the self-medicated buzz from last night had left my body along with the ability to sleep around 3:00 a.m. The vibrating, tingly numbness was replaced with raw, searing pain that rears itself in waves of torment and then subsides into a placid calm. I have had moments this morning when I thought the calm was permanent only to be swept away by a riptide of agonizing sorrow and tossed uncontrollably through the jagged reef of the new reality. I find myself grappling to gain some foothold…somewhere to steady myself.
And, as I write, I realize there is no steady right now. Loving is a risk, but it’s also a surrender. So, I surrender. I surrender to the current and accept this sting. I know this will heal just as sure as I know that this is the right course to take.
But still…grieving sucks!