“My heart hurts.”
I’m very familiar with the sensation. I’ve felt it many times before. While I haven’t always been able to name the emotions, I can always recognize the way it feels in my body. An ache in the center of my chest, pulsating and fuzzy. Sometimes the sensation shifts to a sharper, more constant pain. My heart feels frozen rock solid and heavy. This sensation doesn’t always have the same meaning. Today I recognize it as grief.
Some may not know or have ever been given permission to grieve anything other than death. The truth is that we experience grief many times weekly, if not daily. I think disappointment is grief on a smaller scale. We grieve unmet expectations and unmet goals. We grieve disconnection in significant relationships. We grieve change even in positive transitions of life. Sometimes just momentary grief is sufficient to allow our bodies to regain equilibrium, and sometimes it takes longer. Whatever the case, you must first recognize it for what it is, then sometimes the even harder part is to give yourself permission to grieve. Most of us turn on our rational mind and we can easily minimize it in comparison to other circumstances more worthy of a grief response.
“It’s not a big deal.”
“I’m being silly.”
“I just need to suck it up and get over it.”
In dismissing our grief, we are doing ourselves a great disservice. If your body’s radar detects it, there is something to it. At the very least, allow yourself a moment to feel it and put words to it. Allow yourself to make meaning of your pain, and if warranted share your pain with someone else. This is how we heal.
Last night, after the active threat of tornado had passed, I continued to watch news coverage of the damage and rescue efforts. I was immensely thankful for the absence of fatalities or major injury. I felt sadness and empathy for those who lost their homes and/or were displaced from their homes due to damage. If I were to compare my own grief to the grief and loss of these individuals, I would quickly begin to stuff it down deep to fester and feel ashamed. I cannot imagine the terror of enduring the actual tornado then to emerge from my safe spot to find my home in shambles. My current experience does not compare, but instead of denying it I choose to acknowledge it because it too is valid.
The images of the Mall at Turtle Creek played repeatedly on the screen as a pair of local news anchors were broadcasting live from the command center located in the parking lot. Initially I was numb from the panic that overcame me earlier in the night, but as the shock began to wear off I began to simultaneously think about the past and the future. My mind traveled to so many memories at the mall. Memories of my boys as babies in the stroller, shopping for Christmas with my mom, and most recently buying the journal that I wrote the first draft of this blog in.
My heart feels the most sadness when I think about Barnes & Noble which served as the backdrop to last night’s live news feed. Just thinking about walking into Barnes & Noble, I get an instant shift in my body. My shoulders and my chest relax and a sense of comfort rolls over me. Just being there was a pleasurable experience. Surrounded by books and the aroma of coffee was an escape. My boys love Barnes & Noble, too. It was a mandatory stop on any trip to the mall. My brains scrolls through our many experiences there. Story time with friends. Playing with the train table before it was removed. Playing with the puppets. Impromptu performances by the kids on the stage. Searching for the day’s perfect book purchase. Sitting with others or sitting in solitude with a cup of coffee. Tears well up in my eyes as I remember the joy.
The mall as a whole represents an escape from day to day life. Something a little more exciting than the mundane. This was exceptionally so when the boys were small. Visiting the indoor playground or going to Target was sometimes the antidote to an otherwise difficult day at home. A trip to the mall was often just what we needed to break up the monotony. More recently, Teddy enjoyed visiting Earthbound to find treasures and Foot Locker to check out shoes. They both loved riding the escalator at Dillards. A trip to the mall was never complete without a pretzel from Auntie Anne’s and, as mentioned earlier, a stroll through Barnes & Noble.
If we were just coping with loss related to the tornado, that would be difficult enough. My current grief is compounded by the preexisting lack of normalcy that we’re already experiencing in response to COVID-19. On Saturday we were all just waiting for the all clear for us to resume normal life again. Today we know that a portion of our former infrastructure and lifestyle is no longer available so the lack of normalcy will persist long after the social distancing lifts. Another layer to my grief, and possibly the deeper cut, is the fear that a piece of my memories related to my boys being little has been taken away. Being able to physically be in a space so saturated in emotional connection is rare. If you were to have asked me last week if I thought I was emotionally attached to the Mall at Turtle Creek, I would have likely denied it…but last night and today as I look through the pictures of the interior of the mall, I am overwhelmed with sadness. It is not the shopping I am grieving. It is the experience, the memories, and the ability to be there when I choose that hurts me and I perceive as a loss.
I pray that after all of the current barriers are gone we all can pick up the pieces and rebuild. Rebuild our daily lives, rebuild relationships, and rebuild the homes and businesses in Jonesboro. I have spoken to countless children at Children’s Homes, Inc., where I have the privilege to provide counseling, about grief and loss. Sitting in a room with a child who’s life is dramatically different due to placement, I normalize their real grief in loss of lifestyle and daily connection with their families. I am now experiencing some of what they are feeling as they adjust to a new normal. Today we are separated from friends and family, and our lifestyle is disrupted for the foreseeable future. Just as I hope for all of the kiddos to not just go back to their normal lives after discharge from placement, I hope that when we resume normal life that we take these experiences forward with us. We remember what it was like to not attend church services, to not hug our friends and family, and to not have the ability to go to a movie or eat in a restaurant when we wanted. May we be filled with joy and gratitude when life and relationships are at last restored.
sincerelysammiejo.com 