Gray Grief

It's late April 2008. It's a warm and breezy afternoon, with a gray sky and intermittent peeps of sunshine. My carpet is vaccuumed, my dishwasher is loaded, most of my laundry is done, the groceries are purchased, my yard is mowed, and all should be right in the world. But my mind is gray like the sky.

I caught myself just now thinking, "It's such a nice day, I wish I could be happy."

Now, I am not feeling sorry for myself. I'm not unhappy. I'm just not happy. I'm not contented. Waves of angst continually wash over me like the breezes outside. Gas prices are climbing, surpassing what I've ever seen in my life. Our district is laying off teachers; "always" needing qualified teachers has reached its epoch (well, perhaps the district will still need qualified teachers, but the district is at this juncture unable to pay them). Housing has hit critical mass with defaulting mortgages and stalled home values. Prices are climbing for everything, not just gas, and whispers of food shortages and water shortages prey on the minds of those already in the grips of consumer hysteria.

I don't know that I'm hysterical, but certainly, the angst is exhausting.

The bottom line is that the poor people least able to afford these evolutions of the economy... young families, those working for little more than minimum wage, and those on fixed incomes... are not going to be able to survive, let alone make progress, at least for a while. There may be some sacrifice, if not actual suffering, in store for our nation, individually and together, in the coming months.

I could go into a diatribe of everything that's wrong with our country, but perhaps this point in history, we're part of what's really a global situation, not a national one. Pointing fingers is less useful than living conservatively and spending wisely. The truth is that factors beyond our borders play a huge role in our country's economic welfare, and besides, in a situation of this magnitude, it's impossible to blame or credit any one person or faction with responsibility for the problems or solutions.

Yet, as I sit here, I can only wish I could be happy.

Fifty years ago, the national problems were different; our economy was still coasting on a WWII-induced upswing. Who wanted to think of the boom ending or the wonderful national party finally hitting curfew? But it did. In the 1960's, America swapped safe tradition for the charismatic 1960's, and then in the 1970's, the price of gas was surpassed only by the length of lines of cars at the pump. Things changed. Unimaginably. Unpredictably. Yet reliably.

So now is now. And in another year... in another five years... we'll have a methodology in our lifestyles that nobody now can possibly predict or understand, however wise we think we are, however much we're too arrogant to admit it.

While any liberal environmentalist panicmonger can scream about water shortages or carbon emissions, at the same time as he or she screams, everything is changing. Others are designing newer and better ways to build cars, renew resources, and maximize efficiency. The world in which we live is not going to erode steadily in the coming decades, the world in which we live will evolve in coming decades. We must evolve with it.

Perhaps I could exchange the luxury of grief over the uncontrollable elements of daily life for faith in the American spirit. Americans are free. Some people abuse that freedom with sketchy lifestyles. Some abuse our country's goodwill by taking over-advantage of myriad social programs. Some steal from our country by living and working here illegally. Yet, the American entrepreneural spirit is one in which I have some faith. American ingenuity is a beautiful thing. I have enough faith to eschew fear. I must remember that.

Grief is a feeling of loss of something beloved and necessary. But what have I lost that is beloved and necessary? My feelings of safety and security? Feelings are neither beloved or necessary. My hard-earned money? I have enough, and while nobody I know is partying to pay more at the pump, so far nobody's really driving much less, either.

Save the grief for something worth it.

Surprises

I've been surprised to realize lately that not only fear of further suffering is preventing me from wanting to date, but also my own dissatisfaction with myself is a huge stumbling block.

While I myself may like myself better than I did years ago, I fall so far short of my own expectations for myself, it's impossible for me to imagine anyone else finding me acceptable, let alone desirable.

The saddest part is that if someone did indeed "like me anyway," I would neither believe him or have any respect for him. The scariest part of admitting that little tidbit is that I think that's always why I've "aimed low," so to speak, when it comes to men. For example, I've already admitted that I adored my ex-husband because it's how I wanted to feel about my husband. He wasn't worthy of it, but I overlooked it at the time to suit my own need. So, in other words, this self-perception problem is actually not new. It's just new to my enlightened self.

So what do I think is wrong with me that no one worth it could love me?

This is difficult to list.

First, I don't think I'm pretty enough. I don't think I'm fit enough (though I work out all the time), I don't like my complexion, and I'm kind of disheveled most of the time. I admire those feminine, finished looking girls with smooth hair and clothes that fit like they were tailor-made. They're not me, and I don't understand a man who'd prefer me to one of them.

I don't think I'm mature. I'm stubborn, and it's getting worse as I get older. I don't enjoy responsibility. My house is noticably "organic," though it's clean, and it's a heroic effort to stay even minimally organized at work. There's an artlessness about my lifestyle that, if I encountered it in another, would drive me mad. So I'd expect it to drive someone else mad to find it in me.

Then... I find myself unable to accept that "sometimes marriages don't work." In my naive mind, divorce was never an option for me when I married; I assumed that it wasn't for him, and I was wrong. I see as a divorced person how accepting people are... I am grateful for their compassion but at the same time vaguely horrified by it. It's an actual option. Not working out a marriage is an option. Of course I'd never have married someone I thought would leave me. Little did I know that, hey, divorce happens! It's really an option, and anyone can get one, and nobody else can do anything about it. Wow, what an eye opener! It would take an eternity for me to believe that a man wants, really wants, what I want and will do what it takes to have it.

Writing these truths has helped me.

I mean, I think that for myself, I look just fine, but what's actually most important to me is that I am healthy, and I am doing the right things to stay that way. I actually admire myself for working to maintain my God-given health. To me myself, that's more important than how I look. Couldn't it be more important to a man that my health is a priority to me over how I look physically, all on its own?

As for my stubbornness, well, I've lived alone for a long time, and it's only natural I've arranged my lifestyle to suit myself. However, I recognize that I'm perfectly happy to collaborate with people whom I recognize as worthy of my respect and esteem. I do think a man's job is to lead, however traditional that is of me, but the need for him to have my sincere respect (not the pro-forma respect I gave my ex-husband because, well, I wanted to respect my husband; I did it backwards) is paramount. If I found a genuine leader in my life, a person with the vision to take us forward together, I really believe I'd enjoy collaborating with him, even if it means giving up some of my independence.

I never expected to search for a relationship with a man at this stage in my life... I saw all my friends and relatives marry in their youth and then grow up together. My role-modeling doesn't fit my current circumstances. It might be a wise idea for me to search out some second-marriage people and ask for them to share their wisdom. This is a whole new row to hoe.

Tranquility

In my personal life, I have achieved about month 13 of peace and tranquility. A few realities have come to light:

I recognize now that tangibly, I am separate from my marriage and divorce. I see myself as entire person in my own right, now. How can I tell? When I read articles about the aftermath of divorce now, my response is, "This doesn't apply to me." The wound is healed, though perhaps some scars remain. Maybe some always will... maybe not. Regardless, it's all okay.

I recognize now that a year ago, when I wanted a boyfriend and chose to explore online dating, I quite simply wasn't ready, not for the excitement or the anxiety, the risk and the judgement and the rejection... or the flip side of love and support and nurturing. I wasn't strong enough on my own to share me with anyone else. Am I now? Maybe. Maybe not. Regardless, it's all okay.

I recognize now that my individuality is not only acceptable but essential for my adult peace of mind. In recognize that in some ways, I extended my childlike role with my parents into my marriage; I kept my own counsel and never challenged him or stood up for my needs (though the courtship was the place for such testing; had I been stronger during the courtship, I could have spared myself the divorce). That error is my role in my divorce. I forgive myself for it, for being naive, for choosing unwisely, and for making a mistake that offends my moral values. All I can do is improve the next time. If there is one.

I recognize that people are inherently flawed, so expecting them to support me in ways both physical and emotional sets me up for failure. That is, the people do not fail me, it's my misplaced expectations of the people and misuse of our relationship, or needing them beyond their capabilities, that fails me. For this, faith is essential. I am wary of "religion," especially the cult-like attitudes and behaviors I've encountered, but I retain an old-fashioned faith. I am an important part of this burgeoning universe. I have purpose and merit. I am forgiven my transgressions. The love that created me is the only thing that can also sustain me with purpose, strength, and clarity. Perhaps the faithless see this process of faith as "looking within yourself" to find what I need. For that, perhaps it is; faith is not empiricle. At the same time, I know how easy it is to lie to myself. It's harder to lie when God is refereeing.

I realize that my essential unhappiness comes from failing to meet my own expectations for moving into the future. After the divorce, I wanted to "be better" as fast as possible, not endure an extra second of suffering. I figured, "fake it until I make it." But I didn't count on bitterness. I didn't count on a serious hit to my self-esteem. I didn't grasp what had happened to my ability to trust others. Actually, my faith in others, borne of a lifetime of nurturing stability and unselfish love from my family, was such a defining characteristic of my personality that losing it created an enormous psychological wound. A void. While I have begun to fill that void and grow into the person I am as I sit here, this person is not same person, and trusting others is hard now. I realize it, though. Maybe that's good. Regardless, it's all okay.

I am scared a lot still. That's okay too. Feeling scared is just a feeling. So I'll feel it. But I am a heroine. Courage doesn't mean I never feel scared. Courage means persevering in spite of it.

And I give myself bonus points for trying. Always trying! Trying to move forward, even when I go two steps back. Even when I know people want to scream. Even when I want to scream at myself. In the end, it's been an adventure. I've learned a lot, and I'm a better person for it. I like myself better now than I did four years ago, though I'm not happy most of the time. That's ironic. And, it's okay.

Heroism

I have decided to be a heroine.

Fortunately, that's all it takes, to decide. Somehow, that orchestrates all the debris in my head, gives me an orientation, and provides focus on minutiae in life.

I AM a heroine.

So I have stress at work. A hero is stronger than mere stress! A hero sees the difficult people as incidental to the purpose and importance of what he is doing, the mere cost of doing business, so to speak. A hero strives in spite of impediments to do the best job possible at all times. Therefore, no matter what stress I have at work, I can remain, entirely, a heroine.

So I feel lonely without my family. Well, heroes often deal with disadvantageous to downright desperate circumstances, but they realize that it's not something they can control right away. Rather than grieving their situation, they focus on the positives, not on what they don't have, and bide their time until circumstances can change. In other words, a situation doesn't define the hero. The hero manages himself with distinction in the situation.

A hero is not perfect, however. Odysseus found himself waylaid many times on his travels back to Ithaca. Modern heroes like JFK or the Princess of Wales were all too human in their private lives, yet they're largely respected, if not revered. What allows the hero to remain the hero in the face of his human fallibility? Well, the hero is human; he is not going to be perfect. But he is going to maintain his sense of hope. While Odysseus frolicked on his way home to his wife, he never forgot Penelope was waiting for him in Ithaca, and the idea inspired his hope when his energy or conviction flagged. JFK's immoral private life and controversial presidency in no way shaded the light of hope that illuminated his generation. Diana's struggles through the travails of life inspired the rest of us to sustain ourselves through our own hard times.

And the example of Jesus, who never gave up in the face of persecution, torture, and execution reminds us all that that no matter how bad our lives may be or get or seem, it all could be very, very much worse. Yet, we always can maintain our dignity.

Heroes.

In an article by Oliver Stone, he describes his growth in the perspective of heroism. He said when he was small, heroes were public figures like George Washington or Abraham Lincoln, people who symbolized strength and character. But as an adult, he believes that heroes are the regular people who do the right thing in the face of challenge: kids who say no to drugs, parents who instill children with values and morals, people who take on a task and honor it and thereby honor themselves.

The Flight 93 heroes realized their plight, and they made sure the world heard their voices, and they saved hundreds of lives. They rose to an occasion that everyone understood merited fear. They are heroes.

Then, I am a hero. I am a heroine. When the road gets tough is when the heroism can emerge, right? So if the next few months are hard for me, well, that's the price a heroine has to pay. That's all.