The Truth Is...

Sometimes the best lesson you can possibly learn is that you don’t need to try and learn any lessons.

I read an excellent article today about how we often find ourselves really pressured to make meaning out of our grief and loss, and it struck a real chord with me. If you’re interested, it’s here.

The author talks about how we see so many folks going through a profound loss who are determined to create meaning and make the experience matter, so we often feel that we need to do the same thing ourselves. But, at the same time, there’s a real benefit to us when we allow ourselves to grieve slowly, gently, at our own pace. Making meaning can feel like it’s trying to speed through things to the other side, and that’s not going to be the most organic way to experience what we’re going through.

I also appreciated them saying that feeling like we need to teach others about our grief experience is often us trying to exert control over our circumstances by reasoning through something we cannot reason through.

And, okay. Good point. But here’s why I don’t think that necessarily applies to me and what I’m trying to do with this Substack.

I’m talking about how I’m feeling and what I’m thinking. I’m documenting my experiences and I’m being open and vulnerable, sure. But my primary goal isn’t to teach anyone else anything—it’s not about what you get from it, or even about what I get from it. My goal is to talk about how I feel. My goal is to express myself. I am choosing not to bottle these unbearable, incredibly raw and oh so painful feelings up inside myself to fester and get infected and seep out around the edges twenty years from now. If I am engaged in a continuous process of lancing this boil, then I believe it won’t build up in my soul and destroy the rest of my life. That’s my goal.

I’m happy when people who read this tell me that it makes them think differently about how they are grieving their own losses. That’s great!

I’m happy when I have an insight that makes me feel differently about some aspect of my life. That’s awesome!

I’m also happy when someone reads these words and feels closer to me, or sees that I’m seeking connection or support and then reaches out to offer those things to me. That’s also a fantastic side-effect of what I’m doing.

But all of these things are secondary by-products of what I’m actually focused on: I need to feel these feelings, and I’ve become convinced anything else is going to just push me in the direction of avoidance or distraction or something equally unhealthy. I find myself most able to feel the feelings when I talk about them here, and so that’s what I’m doing.

This newsletter is the equivalent of my beating heart.

I have accidentally figured out a very effective way for me to experience my own grief. It’s an accident because I didn’t set out to do that, but as we’ve been taught by the inimitable Bob Ross, sometimes happy accidents push us in the direction we need to be headed.

I know I’ve shared this picture before, but I saw it today again and it made me happy. This was a shot of the first time baby Coco went to sleep snuggled up on Kellie’s chest. She was so pumped about that. We had so many hopes and dreams about experiencing a puppy’s life all the way from birth through adulthood, since we’d never had that with Sage and Ivy (both of whom were already full-grown when we adopted them). Coco’s first birthday is coming up this month, and when I think about how excited Kellie would be about something new Coco figured out, or some cute thing she’s done, I just can’t help but smile and smile. I know that wherever Kellie is, she’s still in love with this little dog.

Today, I didn’t try to push myself. I didn’t clean much of anything, I didn’t scan any new photos, and I didn’t do any laundry. I did a little grocery shopping and spent some time with my friend Carmen, after she came over to help me with a project (which meant it was taking a task off my plate I really didn’t want to do). I got some work done, I saw a client, and I took a long nap with the dogs. I watched a couple of movies. I played some video games. I read a book. And that’s it.

I needed to grieve slowly today, and it ended up being a wonderful day. So the lesson I learned (although I didn’t want or need to learn any lessons) was to try and just be. More of that, please.

Talk to you soon,

Matt