Lamentations

speaking your sorrow

“You have to talk about the things that make you sad. There’s some good in not saying things, but then it can eat you alive.” Eleanor talking to Nina whose mother has recently died, in the sweet movie Eleanor the Great.

Some days are just plain hard.

When those days come along, especially if there’s a string of them, or maybe weeks and weeks of them, it’s OK to be sad. And angry. Discouraged, disappointed, depressed. Even fearful. These feelings are part of being human. One of the most important skills to learn as we are living the chapter where life is winding down is how to give voice to these feelings in a way that frees us up from their fierce grip.

We kind of like the feelings of excitement and eager anticipation, but we’re not so welcoming when sorrow and sadness come along. During this part of life, living with the diminishment of aging and/or complex chronic disease (CCD), sorrow and sadness can become so prevalent that they paralyze us. They can become a focus for existence, rather than a sidecar, and we forget to notice all the things that bring us joy.

According to one of the meditation apps I use there’s some good research that shows that naming your feelings, labeling them, can reduce their intensity up to 50%.

The process goes like this: you suddenly notice you’re distracted by negative thoughts or feelings. You pause a minute and give them a name – ah, that’s sadness, that’s anger, that’s disappointment, etc. - and then you return to what you are doing. Like anything else you learn, if you practice this long enough it will become second nature, and you will be able to do it as soon as a feeling you don’t like pops up and distracts you.

If you are very, very fortunate, you have a friend or two to whom you can speak your sadness and your fear. Someone who understands the gift of presence, who knows how to listen with the heart and look deep into your eyes. Someone who encourages you to give voice to your sorrow, knowing that when you do, it will release its vicious hold on you.

But even if you don’t have a good friend, like this, you can experience the relief of letting things go by being creative. You can write, or draw, or paint, or quilt, or garden, or make music. Do whatever it is you love to do that allows you to express the feelings that have gotten their fingers around your heart. If you are able, get outside. Move a little. Activity like this generates endorphins and reduces pain.

Some days are just plain hard.

Around our house, blues music comes in handy at times like this. Here’s a little sample:

Some days are just plain hard.

Go ahead. Say it out loud. I can listen for a little while…