Why?
This seems to be a standard question at many ages. Lincoln is sitting here asking me why his pajamas are shorts instead of pants. He seems displeased with the shorter length. I try to explain that they are shorts so he won't get too hot in the summer while he sleeps. He doesn't like any of my answers, so finally I just tell him "I don't know..." and he seems content.
I have asked that question in my life; different contexts, same question. Sometimes the answer of keeping cool in the summer suffices. Other times it does not. Sometimes the best answer is: I don't know. I just don't know.
I never really thought of myself as an overly logical person. I have plenty of emotions. Pre Eli I felt I was fairly competent at containing them in a socially appropriate or peace keeping manner (if I wanted to). I had a lot of emotions so I figured I was just an emotional person as opposed to a logical person. I know we are all both, on some level, but the I am getting to know myself in a whole new way. I am seeing what happens when pain takes hold and it cuts away the outer layer and lets you see a new part of yourself. Here is an odd thing that I have discovered about myself. I am quite logical. I don't want to "allow" myself to feel something unless I think there is a good reason to. I don't give myself permission to unless I can logically justify it. At first, I justified everything. Eli had JUST died, so I was allowed to feel however I wanted to. As time has gone on, I look at the situation, my knowledge and insight I have gained, the amount of time that has passed and I weigh whether or not I am "allowed" to feel a certain way. If you are logical at all, you can see this is a flawed approach to anything....especially grief. It suggests that emotions are always controlled and come at appropriate times in appropriate places. Emotions are always measured responses to a specific situation. I have to reconstruct what logically is happening to allow myself to feel whatever I am feeling. I usually fall back on the "my child died" phrase and realize that I probably am "allowed" to feel whatever is going on.
I sometimes want to explain why yesterday I saw the empty bassinet downstairs (that was too big to fit in a black garbage bag like everything else) and was okay with it, and the next day I was sobbing about it and couldn't look at it. I want to explain why one day I am okay with someone toting their baby around, and the next day I can hardly stand the same sight. Why I can drive to the cemetery and see that his body is there and this is just the way it will be until I die or the millennium happens and other days I can't stand the thought of going on another day with this situation. I feel like it should flow in a linear fashion; prefereably with a timeline. A certain situation or thought should get easier or better over a predictable period of time (with no backtracking, for heaven sakes!)
People tell you that grief is like an ocean tide, ebbing and flowing. It washes over you one day and just touched your toes on other days. The ocean is unpredictable and great storms can arise out of nowhere. I get that nature does that, but I don't do that. I am in control. I want to be in control of something. When I give myself permission to "feel" something, I am in control of that...the permission part. It is a pretty hard thing to let go of that control. Things aren't always as logical as they should be.
Sometimes I have an extremely difficult day and I feel myself asking, "What happenened?" (or other people ask me what happened). If something "happened" I am okay feeling a certain way. If nothing happened, I try to deflect how I feel.
Well, I'll tell you what happened. Someone I love died! And that's just the way it is! It isn't logical.
Maybe that is okay. Maybe I don't have to explain myself to myself. Maybe one person should allow it and the one person should be me.
