Contemplative Monday

Or Serious Monday. Or some other similar word I haven't thought of or discovered yet. And who knows, I may change my mind and not want to be serious. Or skip a week of being serious. Or two weeks. Or a month. The beauty of writing. I get to decide or not decide. Can you handle an indecisive mind that never stops thinking Mitch? (Note: Mitch is the blog's name for anyone reading other than Mitch)

So currently Monday is serious/contemplative/introspective/pensive because Monday is the day I go to counseling. Lots of self awareness type thoughts take place on Mondays. Oh how I wish an hour of work went by as fast as an hour of counseling. Though usually the first five minutes go by at a work-like pace. But by the end of the hour my counselor is having to push me out of the door. I won't go into all the gory messed up details of my brain, that's what the counseling is for. But some things are worth saying to you, Mitch, and to friends, maybe some even to the world. Today I feel like talking about healing.

Of all the places to find wisdom, I know Grey's Anatomy wouldn't be a top choice for many, me included. But the season premier voice-overs (best part of every Grey's episode) spoke some words that I felt...


Meredith: The dictionary defines grief as keen mental suffering or distress over affliction or loss; sharp sorrow. 
Little Grey: Grief may be a thing we all have in common, but it looks different on everyone.
McSteamy: It isn't just death we have to grieve. It's life. It's loss. It's change.
Alex: And when we wonder why it has to suck so much sometimes, has to hurt so bad. The thing we gotta try to remember is that it can turn on a dime.
Izzie: That's how you stay alive. When it hurts so much you can't breathe, that's how you survive.
McDreamy: By remembering that one day, somehow, impossibly, you won't feel this way. It won't hurt this much.
Bailey: Grief comes in its own time for everyone, in its own way.
Owen: So the best we can do, the best anyone can do, is try for honesty.
Meredith: The really crappy thing, the very worst part of grief is that you can't control it.
Arizona: The best we can do is try to let ourselves feel it when it comes.
Callie: And let it go when we can.
Meredith: The very worst part is that the minute you think you're past it, it starts all over again.
Cristina: And always, every time, it takes your breath away.
Meredith: There are five stages of grief. They look different on all of us, but there are always five.
Alex: Denial.
Derek: Anger.
Bailey: Bargaining.
Little Grey: Depression.
Chief: Acceptance.

You may or may not have noticed that I seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth for almost a year. For all the inquisitive Nancy Drews out there, or Neds in your case Mitch, case solved. Reason for disappearance: healing and grief. Excuse? No. Not meant to be. If you care to know all the details, I'd love to sit down and have coffee with you, I have nothing to hide. Only a story God has given me and a history that makes me who I am, my present what it is, and my future what it will be, all meant to bring God glory. But I do not intend, tonight at least, to spill my guts. I'd just like to talk a little about healing and grief. A few things I've learned. And am still learning.

As written by the Grey's Anatomy writers, and others I'm certain, death isn't the only thing we grieve. Change... Life... Loss... Grief is kind enough to not show favoritism. Thank you grief. Ha. Joking aside though, yes it stinks, worse than a zoo, but it's real, it hurts, but it has purpose.

Forrest Gump says life is like a box of chocolates. I've also heard life described as an onion. If you don't like onions, bad analogy. I happen to like them, so it works for me. But like an onion, it's really of no use or no good to anyone as is. It's got all those squiggly, sprouty things on the ends, and those paper like coverings. And I guess if you're boiling crawfish, maybe after removing the paperish coverings and squigglies it could be edible to a crazy drunk guy after boiled who likes to eat onions like apples. But onions are most of use when cut. When the layers are peeled away. And what happens when you cut and peel layers? Unless you know some secret I don't... tears. And lots of them. I'd like to think the onion is grieving. But in the end, once cooked, after some painful heat, it adds flavor and tastes much sweeter.

As stated earlier, this things is huge. Enough to fill a book. I do not intend to write that book here. But I will add this. Don't fight it. Don't hide it. Don't avoid it and think you can suppress it. Feel it when it comes. Deal with it. Because even if you think you beat it by not dealing with it, it's still there. We are breakable humans. God didn't make us unbreakable super humans for a reason. We bleed, we bruise, we feel pain. Why shouldn't we let ourselves accept that our insides are the same? Beyond the organs and blood and vessels, those insides. We don't deny the fact that if you stub your toe it hurts, if you cut your finger it bleeds, if you fall up the stairs (a skillful talent) you bruise. Life hurts, it cuts, it wounds, it bruises. Healing of the insides doesn't happen if you pretend you don't need it. Unfortunately we can't just put band-aids on our hearts. It builds up and 26 years later culminates and forces you to peel the painful layers. Grief ends in acceptance. Not denial. Denial is a part of grief, but acceptance is the end. And I personally think the last stage is lifelong. Like a cool scar. A story to be told. And in the case of these life scars, a God's glory scar.