“That makes me keep crying.” — On Riding the Wave
I’ve been crying so much that someone will say something or something will happen that is grievous and I will respond with: “That makes me keep crying.” Not: “That makes me sad.” Not: “That makes me feel emotional.” But: “That makes me keep crying.” As in, I am crying; I have been crying; I am going to keep crying, and this is aiding in that unfortunate endeavor.
Today something incredibly sad happened, and I’ve been crying and sleeping for weeks in anticipation of today. Anticipatory grief.
It’s not Mother’s Day, that is purely coincidental. I swear.
But today, I knew, was going to be one of the hardest days. So I coped the best I could, which included lots of crying and lots of sleeping. Survival mode. At times I was not functional. At times I was disconsolate.
But I’ve learned, the hard way, how to better cope with Something Incredibly Sad. I’ve processed and grieved, and through this have grown.
There is a dialectical behavioral therapy skill called “Ride the wave.” The idea is that you feel what you are feeling, and you do NOTHING before you make the situation WORSE.
So, in this situation, I rode the wave the best I could. I did not do it perfectly, hear me say that, please. But I didn’t do anything that made the situation worse (self-harm, for example). I rode the wave, and, finally, have washed up on some semblance of a shore.
Today I went to work. This was because I am smart, and I know myself, and I know how to achieve my goals SOMETIMES. What I did was, I texted my boss the first day that I started work, weeks ago, something along the lines of “Strange ask — but can I please work the morning of May 14th?”
She responded, totally understandably, with a misunderstanding of: “Absolutely! Anytime you need a morning or evening off, just text me.”
I liked the message before clarifying: “I know this is strange — but I meant COULD I work the morning of May 14th?”
She graciously obliged. THIS is how we cope, friends.
We take care of ourselves. We cry and sleep and sometimes cry until we fall asleep. And then the morning comes, and it saves us from ourselves. The morning does that, I promise it does.
We go to work and we stay busy and we forget, for a time, all the crying and sleeping we’ve been doing. Instead, we make coffee and sweep and wipe down counters over and over and over again until we can see our broken and blurred reflection in them.
I went into work and I took orders and I smiled. My coworkers love me and I them — and through being around people, through staying busy, I have made it to the other side of Incredibly Sad Thing. I got up this morning, and it was the hardest time I have ever had getting up — yet I did. I worked until my lunch break, and I allowed myself twenty minutes of nothing but weeping. Then I splashed cold water on my face, finished my venti med ball, and went back to work. I’m kinda a badass like that.
This life is full of things, and some are as hard, or even harder, than Incredibly Sad Thing.
A quote that has come to mean a lot to me is by Albert Ellis — grandfather of cognitive behavioral therapy. He says: “You can survive anything. Even being rolled over by a steamroller. Until it kills you. Then, you don’t have to stand it anymore.”
Incredibly Sad Thing didn’t kill me. I was able to stand it.
This is a picture of me on my lunch break on May 14th. I am holding up a venti med ball (or “honey citrus mint tea,” whatever), and I am saying cheers, through the tears.
That rhymes, and I didn’t even plan that.
