Lifting
As a writer, you have to portray every kind of emotion, from the darkest hate to the brightest joy. And just like anything else, the more you do it the better you get, learning through experience.
But there’s another process that happens at the same time. Using a muscle over and over doesn’t just build a skill, it builds the muscle itself. You don’t just become better, you become stronger.
I realized, not too long ago, that I can use this principle in my own life. Specifically, in dealing with grief.
I’ve lost a lot in the last three years. And the weight of that loss, when I think about it, is crushing. So I do what we all do—I try not to think about it. I distract myself with writing, reading, watching Netflix, socializing with friends. But you can’t do that forever; sooner or later it’s just you and your thoughts. And sometimes those thoughts seem intent on kicking the crap out of you.
I’m not talking about the negative, self-destructive ones that whisper about how you’re not good enough and you’re going to die alone. That’s a whole different fight. No, I’m talking about the ones that can’t be fought, because they’re true. They’re simple, undeniable facts: Your father is dead. Your marriage is over. You are no longer a young man. These thoughts don’t attack; they just sit on your chest and make it hard to breathe.
But here’s the thing. You take a heavy weight and let it rest on your chest, and at first it just hurts. But you do that day after day—on purpose—and you let that weight sit there a little longer each time, and slowly you get used to it. The pain doesn’t lessen, but how you deal with it does.
So that’s what I’m doing. Emotional weightlifting. Deliberately letting myself feel that pain instead of avoiding it. Just a bit at a time, whenever I have the strength. Because while grieving is always painful, that pain can be managed. And hopefully, in the end, it’ll make me stronger.
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Sometimes old sayings are actually true and not simply platitudes……the one about what doesn’t kill us making us stronger is absolute truth. It sucks while going through it, getting passed it seems an eternity, and a really sucky learning experience, but one fine day you will find your breathing is easier, your chest doesn’t feel like an elephant sitting on it any more and the world looks brighter. Sounds stupid, but i would literally count what was good in life several times a day to remind myself that it wasn’t going to kill me…lol……at one point, I was hoping it would. Hope things get better for you soon.
They are. Slowly, bit by bit, they are. And I remind myself of what’s good in my life every day, too. Steroids for the soul!
As a psychologist who loves your books, I’ve been impressed at the complexity of your characters and the depth of your exploration into internal processes and insight. What you say here is so healthy and so difficult. I am sad to hear you’re having such an awful few years, and I am glad to hear you are willing to feel the pain and hope for the future.
Thank you. Nice to hear from a professional that I’m doing a good job. The grief part I’m getting a handle on–which means that now the depression is doing its best to kill me. Not going down without a fight, i can tell you that . . . c’mon, depression, what you got? Some negative thoughts? Hah. I have friends, family, internal fortitude, and the backing of the entire pharmacological industry. Not to mention a countless host of authors, artists, and actors to cheer me up. And–of course– my fans to cheer me on.
(DEPRESSION rubs hands together and chuckles like Darth Vader) VERY WELL. SHALL WE BEGIN?
Here we go . . . .