The Ball and the Box: A Metaphor for Grief
Scrolling through Twitter this afternoon, I stumbled upon this thread by Lauren Herschel: The Ball and the Box. In it, she explains how grief is like a ball stuck inside a box that has a pain button on one side. Grief can be a very large ball at times, that constantly knocks against the pain button. At other times, grief is an incredibly small ball, and only knocks against the pain button every-so-often.
If you have read my previous post, you saw that my family lost a member this week. She was my Great Aunt, and the last person on this earth that was related to my grandfather, aside from his children. I never met my grandfather, unfortunately, but I feel as though I have in some distant familial way. So to lose my Great Aunt is going to be pretty difficult to fathom for me for a while, and that's okay.
That's not the only thing I have been dealing with, grief-wise. I feel as though I haven't quite been myself for a few months, in all honesty. My ball of grief is not big enough to always be resting against the pain button, but it definitely nicks it once in a while.
To some, my reason for feeling this way may be considered "dramatic", and others may simply respect my feelings, because everyone is entitled to their own. But my grief started a few months ago, after I metaphorically lost someone. They did not pass away, we just went separate ways in life. The "dramatic" part may be that we hadn't known each other very long, but I am of the belief that anyone can leave an imprint on your heart in a matter of minutes, so I don't find myself dramatic at all.
Anyways, since this fork in our path, I have sort of been searching for the new me. Before this person, I was happy and content; I was in a good place in my life, just about to graduate from college, all good things. Then they came into my world, and life, somehow, got brighter. I laughed and smiled even more than I had been. Then they left, and I haven't found my way back to the me I was before them. But part of me knows that I'm not supposed to be her again. At this point in my life, I need to evolve into someone new and complete; a whole independent woman who can survive her alone-ness and not consider it loneliness.
I am not there yet. I don't quite know how to get there either. My grief ball still knocks on the pain buttons door, and I fall into a slump of missing them. Half of me believes I have a right to - as I have already said, anyone can leave an imprint on your heart in an instant. However, the other half of me believes I've grieved long enough - and it does not do to dwell on the past, as it cannot be changed any longer.
In the grand scheme of things though, no matter the size of your grief ball, what is most important is patience with yourself. Grieving over anything - a physical loss, metaphorical loss, a broken bone, something missing that you love, etc., the list goes on - takes time. That time is not dictated by your life's schedule, or a therapists, or your family or friend's opinions, or even your own. Grief festers and burrows within us for as long as it needs to, and dissipates when it's ready to, which is why patience with yourself is most important. If we can't allow ourselves the time to feel our emotions completely, we will never fully get over what made us sad in the first place.
And in some cases, we never do. Sometimes, learning to live with the pain is the best we can do, and that's not nothing. Living every day with a riptide of sadness threatening your shore is nothing short of brave and honorable.
Grief does not come with any instructions. Your ball may be big enough to never let off the pain button, or small enough that you seldom feel sadness at all. There really is no way to prevent it from coming, or stop it once it's started; all that can be controlled is your patience.
I hope you all find your patience and peace throughout any grieving process you endure in life. And I hope you never view yourself, or others, as weak for simply feeling.
If you have read my previous post, you saw that my family lost a member this week. She was my Great Aunt, and the last person on this earth that was related to my grandfather, aside from his children. I never met my grandfather, unfortunately, but I feel as though I have in some distant familial way. So to lose my Great Aunt is going to be pretty difficult to fathom for me for a while, and that's okay.
That's not the only thing I have been dealing with, grief-wise. I feel as though I haven't quite been myself for a few months, in all honesty. My ball of grief is not big enough to always be resting against the pain button, but it definitely nicks it once in a while.
To some, my reason for feeling this way may be considered "dramatic", and others may simply respect my feelings, because everyone is entitled to their own. But my grief started a few months ago, after I metaphorically lost someone. They did not pass away, we just went separate ways in life. The "dramatic" part may be that we hadn't known each other very long, but I am of the belief that anyone can leave an imprint on your heart in a matter of minutes, so I don't find myself dramatic at all.
Anyways, since this fork in our path, I have sort of been searching for the new me. Before this person, I was happy and content; I was in a good place in my life, just about to graduate from college, all good things. Then they came into my world, and life, somehow, got brighter. I laughed and smiled even more than I had been. Then they left, and I haven't found my way back to the me I was before them. But part of me knows that I'm not supposed to be her again. At this point in my life, I need to evolve into someone new and complete; a whole independent woman who can survive her alone-ness and not consider it loneliness.
I am not there yet. I don't quite know how to get there either. My grief ball still knocks on the pain buttons door, and I fall into a slump of missing them. Half of me believes I have a right to - as I have already said, anyone can leave an imprint on your heart in an instant. However, the other half of me believes I've grieved long enough - and it does not do to dwell on the past, as it cannot be changed any longer.
In the grand scheme of things though, no matter the size of your grief ball, what is most important is patience with yourself. Grieving over anything - a physical loss, metaphorical loss, a broken bone, something missing that you love, etc., the list goes on - takes time. That time is not dictated by your life's schedule, or a therapists, or your family or friend's opinions, or even your own. Grief festers and burrows within us for as long as it needs to, and dissipates when it's ready to, which is why patience with yourself is most important. If we can't allow ourselves the time to feel our emotions completely, we will never fully get over what made us sad in the first place.
And in some cases, we never do. Sometimes, learning to live with the pain is the best we can do, and that's not nothing. Living every day with a riptide of sadness threatening your shore is nothing short of brave and honorable.
Grief does not come with any instructions. Your ball may be big enough to never let off the pain button, or small enough that you seldom feel sadness at all. There really is no way to prevent it from coming, or stop it once it's started; all that can be controlled is your patience.
I hope you all find your patience and peace throughout any grieving process you endure in life. And I hope you never view yourself, or others, as weak for simply feeling.
Comments