The title says it all. It’s been two weeks and I don’t cry as much. One would think that I’m improving, right? I don’t think so, for today, as I sat in my therapist’s office and poured out my heart, my feelings were just as raw as when I first heard of my cousin’s death. I find that I’m not only dealing with his sudden death but the reality of my own mortality. What’s to stop that from happening to me? The more I hear about what led up to his death, the more I realize that his issues were medically related, yes; but that’s not all. As much as he was lauded as a phenomenal teacher, coach, pillar in his community, there was a backdrop of extreme stress. The stress of pushing despite, overlooking, dismissing and under-evaluating the toll it was taking on his life. “Mr. Mumford, are you alright?,” a student would ask when it took him too long to get up from his desk. “Mr. Mumford, are you alright?, asked by a passerby at a school, in a hospital, or while taking care of business for his dad as he was observed leaning against a wall or clenching his chest or holding his head as he sat slumped over in a chair. So what killed him? Medical issues exacerbated by stress or stress manifesting in medical issues?
I may never know why my dear cousin’s life was snuffed out. It is troubling to think about. Both my therapist and Naturopathic Doctor wondered if I fear that I will die too. After all, he was my age. It is common to be anxious about dying especially when it’s someone close to your age, I am told. “Are you afraid that you’re gonna die too?,” my ND asked. “I don’t think so,” I answered. “It’s more sobering to think that I might die alone.” Folks say that you’re born alone and you die alone. It’s different though to have a heart attack and there is no one there to help. True, I have family, I have friends, I have a loving man; but they all live elsewhere. They wouldn’t think anything was different if I didn’t return a phone call immediately. It’s sad when the first people who’d be concerned would be the folks on your job. Even as I type, I could expire in the next second and no one would be the wiser. I think that’s what’s most troublesome about all this.
Don’t misunderstand. I know that one day we all will be leaving this earthly realm one way or another. I’m not sitting here afraid of that. It’s more wondering if I am tolerating instead of living. “Death is only a tragedy if you haven’t lived,” is a quote that resonated with me when I first heard it on the movie THE FAMILY THAT PREYS. Am I afraid that that will be today or tomorrow? No. I’m most concerned about the quality of my life not when I’m going to die.
I don’t know if it’s a family thing but my cousin’s lifestyle mirrors that of his dad, my dad and other men in our family. It’s as if they all read from the same dictionary that defines being a strong man as pressing past challenges to make sure other people are taken care of. Though it manifests itself the same, the females in my family don’t define their manhood by it. I think we are more typifying self-sacrifice. It’s viewed as noble or Christlike. We are the suffering servants, the loyal accommodaters who get worn down by being there despite the resistance we get when we attempt to assert what we need. It’s not that we don’t tell you; it’s the resistance I think that eats away at our resolve. Case and point, after working on Sunday to finish financials for my job, I asked myself if the pressure to perform was greater than the grief that put up a fight. I’ve said that I can’t keep working. I’ve said that I need time. Yet, I pushed myself to get the job done with less regard for myself. Is it external pressures or internal ones? Internal I would guess as I consider the anxiety I’ve felt over not being able to perform to that same high standard that I’m praised for. Or maybe it’s the external that has somehow seeped into my self-worth over the years and has blinded me to what really matters in life.
We all are dysfunctional in some way, shape or form. So I’m not too hard on myself for that. Internal, external, doesn’t matter. Same as I’ve taught some people to regard me for me, I’ve taught others to put themselves and their needs above my own. None of this is their fault. Instead of complaining that I’ve gotten calls that have ended with “Oh girl, I’m so sorry. Let me know if I can do anything,” I should have said, “I need something to eat and I don’t want to cook it,” or “I feel alone and want you to come over.” It’s not their fault that I didn’t say it. People are only being who they are. They are dealing with their own lives. They are not responsible for my health and well being – I am. I must assert what I need because I value it. How people respond is definitely important to teaching me who I can count on and what part they wish to play in my life. Either I can accept it or reject it. That's totally my call.
I say I because I can choose to continue to allow the stress in my life to eat me alive or I can make decisions that support me. Even in grief, I feel my Wise Self challenging my self-value and motioning for me to rise to another level. The God who sees, knows and cares is working within me to give me strength and clarity of how to support His efforts to take care of me. Has he miraculously transported me out of my misery? No. He has walked alongside me throughout it, often taking the lead when it’s time. He is leading me now. For me, as for many others, death is the pathway to life. Nothing raises your consciousness like the death of a loved one. You go in one way but come out another. I think about Congresswoman Gabby Gifford’s harrowing experience. From death’s door she was rescued and brought back. Why? I’m sure many were anticipating her return to Congress and the heightened sense of purpose. She resigned over the weekend. I am not shocked though. When you go through something life-altering, your life is altered. That’s why some people change their associations, their way of living, or move to another part of the world. That’s why families start foundations or fight to change laws after loss of a loved one. Like them, Gabby’s moment of clarity is uniquely tailored to her path in life. I respect that.
Oh well, I know that I’m rambling so I feel I have to ask myself what is the point to all this. The point is this. I don’t think it’s other people who make us bitter or better. I think it lies in our choice to stay open or to shut down. I realize that when stressed I tend to give in to the familiar codependency or the familiar overachiever syndrome. Even in grief, that's my go-to. I won’t damn myself for it. I won’t guilt myself or shame myself for it. Instead, I own it and open my heart to that Wise part of me who knows that I’m just in an emotional tailspin. Despite my decisions or mistakes, when it’s time for something to be over, God has always offered me a way of escape. I can rest in Him taking care to make sure I don’t harm myself or anyone else during this time. Lawrence’s death shook me to my core and scattered all the marbles I had carefully placed in life’s jar. I am seeing now that my recovery isn’t in scrambling to pick up the marbles, but to let them roll and bounce to wherever they wish. The way through all this is not in my performance any way. It’s in my surrender. “God, I’ve been praying for a long time. I know that You see from a panoramic view what I cannot see. I trust you to give me the help I need and to pick up the pieces or to leave them scattered and give me new ones.”
