EROS: The obsessive nature of grief

All parts of grief are an obsession but often slower and with a less intense mania than the desire for a love affair. In eros, we lose ourselves in euphoria; true with grief, we bury ourselves in unanswered questions. 

Eros is desire, but like any desire, it can become obsessive. The obsession with grief mirrors our dark fascination with death. But, unlike the passion of a love affair, we only become obsessed with our grief once we have lost something we cannot replace. And with romantic attachment, we quickly become infatuated and compulsive with desire even when we have never experienced a romantic partner.   

Grief is the most familiar and yet the most elusive emotion that we are capable of possessing. We struggle with grief primarily because we only associate it with death. We delude ourselves early in life, believing grief is attached to death, for it exists, which is how we miss the opportunity to define and identify suffering within ourselves before we lose someone dear in our lives. And what's crazy is we never question ourselves about the other emotions we experience during a loss. Can there be pure sadness in death, or must it be grief? What else can we find in a loss that isn't grief? And if suffering is not confined to simply losing a loved one, what other ways do we experience it?

Grief, en masse?

I had been experiencing the loss of my father for 9 months when the Uvalde shooting happened. I felt sick the entire day, and I shouldn't have. We had much to celebrate in our family, and I planned to meet a highly visible collaborator with many possibilities for me. And then the confirmation of the news of another school shooting made me feel hollowed out. I had spent the morning at my daughter's school for her kindergarten graduation, and by the afternoon, when the news broke, everything felt too heavy. I felt a deep sadness for the parents finding out one by one that their children were gone too soon, and violently and with fear in their little hearts before somebody ripped from everything they had known to be true. 

But as I felt sadness for them, I wondered about the fate of my children in school. My daughter may have graduated kindergarten in person with her classmates, but during the regular school year, she had been home with me every day, logging in to learn via Zoom. What would become of her when she joined her classmates daily in person was a thought I became obsessed with, and it was hard to shake. In the days and the summer months that passed in the wake of Uvalde, I knew I grieved more than the loss of children I never knew, but I lamented my failure as a parent. I felt deep sorrow with the understanding that could easily happen to my child because despite the private education my husband and I were offering her, she still wouldn't have the type of security that a child of wealthy parents might offer their child. I grieved my inability to guarantee her and my son's safety when not in my presence. And I didn't fully rest during the first weeks at my children's new school. I was unsure if the lone gate separating the outside world from their sheltered learning environment would protect them from harm, from imminent death from someone too troubled and without support to honor themselves and vehemently express their most authentic needs rather than take my children from me in rage and desperation. I think many parents tend to obsess about these things when it comes to feeling helpless about the safety of their children. But unfortunately, this vulnerability also often presents itself in grief. 

My weakness is rooted in the scattered reality of losing my father. It's both real and not real at the same time. Sometimes I have to posture in that reality and choose which to believe in carrying on in my existence. Similar to love and its inanimate nature. Love is real and not real. It's present and not present like all the love one experiences before they find their person. Is the love rooted in nostalgia still valid? Or was that emotion temporary, yet wild attraction? 

Temporary Connections

Something I never truly prepared for during the loss of a parent was losing an emotional connection to my surviving parent. I imagined it would be a drastic loss, and the resulting change would catalyze a deeper connection within my family, especially with my mother. But that is not and has not been the case. I have concluded that when you lose the parent you feel closest to, you can relinquish your need and desire for the surviving parent for many reasons. Honestly, if you focus less on the grief and more on the reality that loss can offer you, it can widen your awareness unexpectedly. For example, my consciousness expanded in learning that I lacked cognizance that my father was my person as a parent all the time, I didn't notice this while I fluctuated between both of them for guidance depending on the issue, but in not able to call my father anymore, I became aware of how many times the desire is there rather than with my mother.  

This compartmentalizing of my parents was my first fixation in grief, trying to bridge the gap of understanding of what I failed to realize about my father while he was alive. And while I only concerned myself with my emotions, shortcomings, and realizations. The others connected to my father had their desires. Some may even call them agendas. Wholeheartedly, black American families never needed the ancient ways of our ancestors more than when in grief. But, unfortunately, the modern rituals in distress and grief fall short for those that have sought and experienced a more profound connection to Spirit than the loud, collective outpouring one might encounter on a Sunday at a black southern baptist church.     How does a church service, with an open casket, connect with the unseen world when the undertone is merely a reminder to accept spiritual ritual as a pathway to everlasting life? Does this broker ease on the energetic journey for the dearly departed? Does the repast represent any sacrifice we make for the lost member of our tribe or greater community? Do the doves we set free create a path for the spirit of our loved ones to follow to the Light?

 We lose connection with the parents, the people left behind in our loss, as we move according to our emotional desire. Our desire is the direction of our energy flow. I believe this is why we can't resolve issues like mass school shootings because we desire to eliminate the pain through access to guns rather than to heal the underlying global mental health crisis and ways that our society influences it in preference of prevention. 

Most days, I only call my mother now because I can't call my father. It isn't effortless to make this admission, but it's true. This realization has taught me a great deal about the law of attraction. Most people only consider this universal law as it pertains to romantic attraction, but it is not limited to love interests. Over time as I have explored and learned many things as an adult separate from the rule of thumb of my parents, my father remained interested in my life and eager to advise in an age-appropriate manner. Alternatively, my mother always had an agenda rooted in projecting what felt most aligned for her no matter the circumstances. But, it's the kind of thing you miss or neglect to address as you still have a choice in which parent you reach out to and how often. 

Professor Grief

Every day is more arduous without my dad, especially regarding family matters. I think the thing most people don't realize about grief is that you go a little insane to be able to wrap your head around your loss. And not just the loss of someone else. Anyone you lose reminds you that your days are numbered. The insanity forces you into periods of obsession that start so subtly that you don't realize you are fixated on everything but one thing at a time. I think everyone's focus begins at a different place. Sometimes it's guilt, and you punish yourself for what was left unsaid. But, most people can't stay there very long even if they circle back to it. In grief, guilt is never hard to find. When there is nothing else to obsess over, blaming yourself is easiest. Avoidance is the next seamless emotion to access when you're not guilty. Why muddle around in grief when you can forget it happened altogether? Years two and three are not more manageable than the first few days of grief because you can never un-lose the person again, and you can never not experience all of the emotions, mental fatigue, and the totality of the experience of grief once it has begun. There are no do-overs in grief. Grief is the greatest mentor of finality and the temporary nature of the incarnation. 

Over time all the obsession is a waste of time. It's the ego trying to substantiate death, separation, and reconcile a foreign sensation in the body resulting from a new circumstance. And all the while, grief is trying to teach you something about yourself. 

Are you navigating the complexities of grief on your journey?  Follow along as I continue to explore my grief identity; the mistakes, the aha’s and the new normal that cannot be undone.  Schedule a session to get guidance on how is impacting your circumstances in real time.