They say grief moves in stages
The powers that be, they count the way we process grief in tidy little packages. She will deny she is hurt, that it happened. She will bargain against the inevitability of the event. She will get depressed. She will get angry. She will get over it.
Yet another of the many ways that I do not fit into a mold. I knew, immediately what happened. I never denied that it occured. Not in my head. It was never anything other than it was. I never asked to trade. Never. Not one moment did I ask for it to be removed from my history. Like an ugly and hostile war, it remains. It nestles in between the pages and collects the holes of silverfish. It remains and I would not wish it on another, in order to assuage the pain inflicted on me.
I skipped, instead, to depression and floated there for years. Without even being completely cognizant, just sat idly behind the protective wall I built. Being so afraid to ever step out of the doorway, to let the possibility of life kiss my face with the sun. In this state, I found a voice which I gave worth. One that let me twine words together, one that let me pull something shimmering out of the horror. Small, but important consolation.
But this indigo grows tiresome and one heart can only bear so much. I don’t like what this pain has made me into. I don’t like the choices I have made in light of it. I don’t like who I am. That brings in a whole new and fresh layer of hurt. Black and even like new tarmack. It sends up heatwaves in the summer and splits unevenly in the cold, early nights of winter. Even here, in this place.
I am angry. I am angry at him. I am angry that for years I held myself responsible for something over which I had no control. I am angry that for years, I took no responsibility for things that were completely my fault; because I felt powerless. I am angry that I have lived in this pain for this long.
I am angry in what I have put up with because I didn’t think I deserved better. I am angry that I allowed myself to be used, I am angry that I knew it when it was happening and I just thought it was my lot in life.
It is a seemingly endless cycle, this grief of mine. It catches me unaware and unguarded. It can suck the air out of the room and my lungs. It can make the unbearable weight of simply being a damnable curse. This last stage of grief, this getting over it, I wish it would come. I wish it would hit me, blindside.
Then I could figure out how to find beauty in the beautiful, instead of extracting it from the tragic.
December 17th, 2008 at 5:01 am
Maybe look at it this way, your toes are right there at the last stage. I actually got a little excited. I imagine you standing there, right there, one more step and you could be free. Do it Flutter. Come on. Do IT! (I feel like I’m coaxing my daughter through that race!) JESUS CHRIST FLUTTER, GO, GO, GO!
December 17th, 2008 at 5:34 am
it will blindside you. . . but slowly so that one day you just can breathe again.
xoxo
December 17th, 2008 at 6:12 am
first, let me say i am in no way equating what happened to me with what happened to you.
second, i never denied, either. but i also never got depressed. which worries me. what’s wrong with me that i am able to intellectualize it all, turn it all into words?
um, did i mention i’m going back into therapy?
December 17th, 2008 at 6:58 am
Mmmm, your writing is mesmerizing and I can feel every bit of it. I carried a different kind of grief for 30 years – the very final stage for me has finally come – forgiving myself. It was a terrible long time coming. I wish this for you and I will be holding you in white healing light in my thoughts.
xoxoxo
December 17th, 2008 at 7:52 am
I don’t believe the pain ever completely lifts; instead, perhaps, the cycles simply soften. And maybe that’s what makes you angriest of all: that which was done can never be undone, unlived, unfelt. It will always be with you, somehow. But maybe that’s what makes the beautiful more so, the tinge of dark around outlines, makes it heftier, more real, more felt.
December 17th, 2008 at 8:16 am
It doesn’t seem that long ago, you said angry didn’t come naturally to you. So now, when you say you are angry, I am glad. I like angry; for me, angry is a stimulant, and it’s so much better than sad and self-recriminating.
{you}
December 17th, 2008 at 8:38 am
Oh my dear – if I could only wrap you in a big hug right now. That was so beautiful and wrenching — and hopeful and plaintive. I’m sad you are in pain, but I am glad that you are not so shut down that you’re no longer feeling, period. You’re ANGRY! You’re depressed! You’re ANGRY some more! And though I *know* it sucks sucks sucks, this anger is important and it will move you forward and backward and sideways and then forward some more. Stay with it.
I know the pain of “lost years” due being shut down – and making decisions, that I now somewhat regret, that were made under terrible duress. At the time though, those were the best decisions I was capable of making. Damn it all! See? I’m STILL angry!
December 17th, 2008 at 8:42 am
it’s amazing how long it can take. isn’t it? i love you
December 17th, 2008 at 8:55 am
Very moving post. You’ve taken the words right out of my mouth….
Although I’m not privy to what you experienced, I know what I experienced and that was nearly 35 years ago. Although I’ve made some headway; mostly by talking to those I love about what happened to me (I had kept it a secret forever), I still feel like the effects linger and mark my days with unnecessary pain. HE wrote with indelible ink on my soul and I’m spending the rest of my life trying to move on. Trust was lost and that’s a tough one to re-find.
I hear you loud and clear and your writing is so beautiful.
Best to you and keep writing!
December 17th, 2008 at 9:12 am
I think we compound our depression by taking on so much responsibility for it. Our society – me included likes to blame the victim, to throw around the idea of owning our own emotions, our feelings that become biological reactions to stress. How do you own this kind of violation?
You can’t. This motherfucker hurt you–he was in control then not you–you did not allow yourself to be used. You did not ask for what he chose to do. Shout that out to anyone who will listen…”I was hurt by a very awful man and it had nothing to do with my choices.”
What make you think you are guilty because you felt powerless? You should not be angry because you didn’t take responsibility. WTF Flutter?
You just be angry at him. He hurt you, it fucked you up. Now you’re getting better, but your body, your biology has to learn that. Habit becomes a groove. Are you taking meds? I don’t remember. You need to knock the needle out of the groove with something that will bust you wide open.. Do something you are afraid of, take a pill, spin until your dizzy, something.
I was hurt in such a typical and benign way, and it’s been so difficult. I’ve wallowed in ownership, in telling myself I need to own my life, take responsibility for all of what led me down the dark path, but now suddenly something has come into my life from the outside. It’s ideas and possibilities and someone who might hold my hand and guide me into those scary places. The idea of letting go of the responsibility and allowing myself to be led, to have help to be of help is like a penny on the needle, keeping me from looping over and over the same self loathing.
This is too much, and may not even be real, but it feels right…
You don’t need to own this pain. Give it back to the motherfucker, a Vikings funeral, send it up in flames and do it as often as you need.
Biggest love.
December 17th, 2008 at 11:02 am
Harness the anger. Get mad, get foaming at the mouth mad. Mad means you are placing the blame elsewhere. Get foot-stomping, furniture breaking, snot-pouring out of your nose, tears ripped from your eyes, blazing freakin mad, flutter. Get so mad you shake the hell out of it, so when you recover, it is lying crumpled on the floor and you can kick it with your shoe, IT should be lying crumpled on the floor. Not you.
December 17th, 2008 at 12:30 pm
i feel cheated because i didn’t have a succinct timeline to my grief. i want to be able to write it into pretty chapters with witty titles and i can’t. lines bleed into each other and i can’t see where one begins and one ends. grief is a shapeshifting little bastard of a manipulator, isn’t she?
but did you hear yourself?
“this last stage of grief, this getting over it, i wish it would come.”
you know it’s there. YOU KNOW IT’S THERE!
this, in and of itself, is so full of hope and survival and remembrance and strength.
listen to your voice fighting for you right now. you’re tired, i know. but, dammit, you’re fighting anyway.
and i’m so proud of you for it.
December 17th, 2008 at 1:44 pm
Grief is a fickle son of a bitch. Different stages, different times, they all come and go. Even the denial. I don’t think denial means you have to deny the event itself. I think you’ve denied yourself the knowledge that you are better than him. Than what he decided you should be in that moment. That you ARE beautiful. That you can be whole. That someone can love you just for you. Your wall – that was your denial. I am glad for your anger. I think it’s an important step for you to break free. To say no more. I will not be held hostage by my pain any longer.
December 17th, 2008 at 4:52 pm
My dear friend, keep the anger…use it to strengthen you, keep you from being in that same place again. Don’t however allow it to imprison you for something that many women of all paths of life, race, religion and high intelligence didn’t know enough to leave or stop what was happening. Stop punishing yourself for the guilt of someone else. As some of your readers have said your almost there, just take the next step. We are all here with something to say, use your voice scream, let it out, your more than this…so much more…this place you’ve been in is his making, he put you there, keeps you there in shame and memory. Only you can move out of it and not allow him to control the outcome anymore….Time heals, if you let it. One day you will be able to accept what has happened as a step in forming who you become, who you are. Your in my thoughts. (Hugs)Indigo
December 17th, 2008 at 5:09 pm
I feel all of your pain Flutter. I am in a similar situation and I think I am close to finding my way to freedom.
For me it is hard trying to tackle this last stage with all of lifes other problems comig at me at the same time.
It is hard getting over the last stage during the most depressing time of the year for me.
December 17th, 2008 at 5:27 pm
The shrinks they are a funny lot, telling us how we are supposed to be. I don’t get that wishing ti on others either.
I think one day I will just wake up and I will realise things are ok again.
I hope you will catch yourself finding beauty and you will realise the same.
December 17th, 2008 at 6:40 pm
I think you *do* find beauty in the beautiful, I’ve seen it here.
December 17th, 2008 at 7:49 pm
grief is fluid, i think; it moves and attaches and seeps in to us in different ways, yet it’s such a universal thing. sometimes it’s beautiful and sometimes it’s ugly and hard. it’s a heavy weight to carry.
i think so many people can read this and take something from it, something that will help or comfort them in their own grief. thank you for sharing yourself the way you do here.
December 17th, 2008 at 9:16 pm
I agree with the commenter who said it may not go away fully, but rather softening cycles. A good way to put it. “Getting over it” may not be realistic for everyone, unfortunately. Rather, stages of more tolerable.
December 17th, 2008 at 9:38 pm
Your writing just makes me think you are so much STRONGER than he ever could have been that it is not a question of whether or not you’ll get over it, it is a question of when.
December 17th, 2008 at 10:04 pm
I hope with all my heart that in 2009 you reach that last stage. And that you start to feel free.
December 18th, 2008 at 12:09 am
Every step, every stage, moves you forward. Always, always forward.
Hugs, you.
December 18th, 2008 at 10:36 am
I think they like to categorize it, tame it, but grief is a beast and you can’t just wrap it up nicely. I think the neat little boxes they try and put it in does a disservice to those living through it. Grief is rarely the neat and tidy process it seems.
December 18th, 2008 at 1:10 pm
I know it’s hard to realize something when you’re in it, but try to remember you’re (a) not in it alone and (b) everything does in fact change … someday.
You know I heartcha and you’re always in my heart.
December 18th, 2008 at 6:39 pm
The real killer about grief is that the stages all ebb and flow, jumbled together, out of order, back and forth.
Fuckers.
December 18th, 2008 at 7:37 pm
I hope you get there too sweetie….you are so brave to share this with the world. Take care, and I will be here to hold your cyber hand as you continue to work through this. xoxoxo
December 18th, 2008 at 7:59 pm
Such beautiful, haunting words. Thinking of you.
December 19th, 2008 at 7:44 am
There is no mold, no matter what the books and “experts” say. Each person is unique and there is no way to predict how grief will take hold and impact our lives. I do know that the feelings are overwhelming and ever changing and can last forever. However, I do believe that you have done so much healing, even during your darkest times. I also believe that you will someday see that amazing, beautiful, creative and compassionate woman that we all know you are. Love and more love.
December 19th, 2008 at 1:45 pm
I think you are beautiful, and I am in awe of you completely.
December 19th, 2008 at 1:48 pm
hugs to you. why does every step seem so hard?
December 19th, 2008 at 5:14 pm
I think you are starting to get over it. You’re angry now, the next step is forgiveness which to be honest I doubt I could do. I don’t know. The hard part of forgiveness for me was admitting my own part in it, and no I’m not saying you had any part in being raped. I’m talking about how I decided to see things, how I decided to mold things inside my mind so that everything I felt was the fault of another, so that I could lay it all at someone else’s door. I was the victim. But being the victim was something I decided to be. You say you’re angry at yourself and I can imagine but now it’s time to forgive. You did the best you could at the time, now you know better, you can do better.
Although you think that the rape and it’s aftermath was awful, it has given you something you might not have had otherwise. I see in you a compassion that many women your age do not possess, you have experienced a huge loss and you have an understanding of what it is like for others to suffer a similar loss. I’m not saying the rape was a good thing, not in any way, but I think you have received good things from it. Which would be hard to wrap your head around. How to be thankful for a gift that comes from such horror? But it happens.
Most of all though I want to wish you a lovely, peaceful Christmas. I’m sending you a hug from the frozen north. Take care sweetie.
December 19th, 2008 at 5:48 pm
Not about letting go as much as letting be.
You are doing “fine” in your healing.
Sending you a resonant poem offline demonstrating same.
Beauty is.
December 20th, 2008 at 11:02 pm
Ah, your other commenters have beat me to it: I want to type that anger seems, somehow, a productive step forward, a thing that will create momentum out of the pit.
December 21st, 2008 at 10:58 pm
i have not had to deal with anything so awful as you have, but I find that that last stage of healing… I start to grasp it for a while, and then I backslide, then I grasp it again, and then I backslide, but eventually i hold it for longer and longer (with occasional short bursts thrown in just to keep it exciting)… I hope that someday the backsliding will go away all together.
so keep going. keep working. And if you get there, and lose it for a while, don’t give up. I think it’s all part of the process.
damn process.
December 22nd, 2008 at 3:57 am
I love you sister. May that the force of your anger moves mountains. May gentle rains start fresh new growth in the valley of your heart and may sunshine play with through the shadows of leaves.
December 23rd, 2008 at 10:12 am
You know I know this all too well. I wish I didn’t. I wish I could wipe out this stain. But I can’t. So I’m just going to sit for a while in the beauty of your words, where the pain doesn’t sting so bad.
*hugs* to you this holiday season. I wish the Merriest of Christmases for you and Blessings of happiness and peace for the New Year.
December 26th, 2008 at 2:58 pm
Oh the Joys & Painted Maypole really nailed this one. It is a slippery slope. But, you’ve got the best footwear. Yourself. Your honesty. Your courage. And best of all, your determination to get through.
December 26th, 2008 at 9:08 pm
I know. I have this cycle going on as well and I am totally trying to break it these days.
darling. this was one of the best things you have written in ages I feel…..
January 8th, 2009 at 3:00 pm
Flutter, this piece was so profoundly raw yet so beautifully written I feel as if on a fence; on one side is the content and on the other the desperate need to work passed it and move on.
I really liked it.
Cat
January 16th, 2009 at 11:58 am
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