Complicated grief is a phrase in the mental health field.
But isn’t all grief complicated?
Rarely a day goes by where a song or bald eagle doesn’t bring it all back. Only recently, have I been in a place where I feel like I’m missing my loved ones in a more joyful way. Like I remember basketball in our driveway with my Dad. Or the way Al would say, “Talk to you later, pal.” That my Grandma made a delicious peach pie. And my Grandpa was a better listener than I will ever be. The smell of oatmeal at 4am, sleeping on the pull-out couch at my other set of grandparents. Farmers never retire. Laughter and Rosary in a circle with my Grandma’s friends. Kittens and a cow that nipped at us when we turned this one corner of the barn. Throwing rocks in a manure pit and running away from the smell. Hay barn. Sunfish and paddleboat.
Why do we get stuck, sometimes, only remembering the worst parts?
When I was a young adult, the college counselor said I had PTSD and complicated grief. Now that I’m in the field of mental health, I don’t take that so seriously. The counselors at the college were graduate students…so pretty new to the work. Besides, I think we would have a better understanding of post traumatic stress on a continuum or with a scale or levels. Like how you can have different stages of cancer. Stage 1 is bad, but not as bad as Stage 4. People hear PTSD and think of wars or rape or domestic violence. And that is your stage 4 right there. But others have stuck memories that replay and replay at a stage 1 and its manageable as long as you take good care to drink water, sleep, exercise, eat okay foods, and talk with family and friends frequently (support system!).
When I was a young adult, I remember telling a boyfriend that I missed my Dad.
“That was a long time ago, though, wasn’t it?”
I remember that hurt felt really bad. Like walking on a sidewalk, looking at your feet, and running your head into a street sign. Clunk. But you want to play it cool and not look like a jerk that just ran into something.
“Yeah, I guess.”
I’ll never know for sure, but I think not sleeping much, eating ramen noodles, and drinking too much really contributed to how sad and pointless I felt many of the days I spent at college. My brain seemed to loop the same bad memories. Over and over and over.
I’m glad I found the exit ramp.
God Bless!
Terra Rose
Life Without Montages 