Loss

No witty title for this one.

This morning I chatted via Facebook with a young friend who is going through a sudden and unexpected breakup.  His boyfriend is having issues--big ones, like homelessness, and this is perhaps for the best really.  But nobody wants to hear that while they are grieving.  All I could really do is affirm that his feelings are valid, that he is an attractive person, and that he is absolutely still worthy of love.

That got me thinking.  There are lots and lots of losses in our lives.  Lord knows I've had most of them in my 57 years.  Underneath all of them-every single one-is the loss of what was expected.  When we lose a relationship, even if it is our choice, the loss of the expectation of lifelong companionship (and often much more) can be devastating.  When we move, the loss of familiarity, even if it was a crappy existence, is still painful on some level.  When we lose a parent, the loss of that solid rock, or maybe the loss of the opportunity to make everything "right" with them, goes on forever.  When we lose a child, we lose watching all that they would have become.

It's hard to focus on anything outside that pain, at least at first.  We always take it personally-almost narcissitically, and we go through all the stages of grief.  When we support others in their loss,  we have to first understand that right this second, when the loss is fresh and oozing, there is no solace.  Not one bit of it.  Nobody and nothing can take that pain away.  Like a skinned knee, it has to have some time to scab over so that the real injury can begin to heal.

Most of us though have a really bad habit of picking our scabs.  They itch, or we think they look ugly,

or maybe we think the healing is done so the scab must be removed.  We don't think about it at the time, but if we pick at our scabs, the risk of infection is very real.  So it is with life losses.  When we keep our focus on them, when we pick at them all the time, we are asking for worse.  When we open up we risk the opinions of others, or our own negativity, or the cultural grime we live in, making our wound infected. Eventually it turns to a nasty puss that if left untreated can quite literally kill us.

We have to treat loss like an open flesh wound.  We have to pamper, shelter and treat the wound so it doesn't kill us.

Some people are more vulnerable to infection than others.  Think of your immune system.  If you don't make a lot of antibodies, your healing is really really slow.  If you're healthy you may never even be tempted to pick a scab because it heals quickly and doesn't cause us much trouble.  Our past histories are how we build the antibodies.  Once exposed, we are later stronger and more immune when the disease comes around again.  Bd relationships are like the flu; they mutate and the next time it comes around you are immune to most of it but there's that mutation that makes it start again.  "Chicken soup" from others will help us get through the flu but it doesn't cure it or eradicate it from the planet.  A bandaid over our skinned knee protects it somewhat, but we still have to tend to it with neosporin or at least soap and water.  Sometimes even when we do, it still manages to get infected.

So what do you do if you get infected?  Even the most healthy folks occasionally are given a wound that just will not respond to whatever it is we are using to treat it.  Our wounds start to ooze, and we feel worse and worse until we go get it checked.  The doctor can give ua antibiotics and maybe even clean it up a little.  It might be more painful initially, but it will only benefit us in the long run.

So it is with counseling services.  Whether it is from your minister, or a therapist, or even a good friend, we need to reach out to an "expert" to aid our healing.  The deeper the wound, the more experience and education we need to find in our "doctors".  We have to actually believe we are not going to die from this.  We have to ask for and accept the appropriate help.  We have to do the whole treatment plan.

Eventually, all that will be left is a scar.  Scars, even emotional ones, do two important things.  First, it prevents you from getting the same injury in exactly the same way.  We are at least partially protected.  Second, that scar serves as a reminder that you DID heal and you won't put yourself in the position to get injured in that way again.

I have a lot of scars, inside and out.  I've learned to celebrate them as a survivor.  I've grown from each experience, no matter how painful.  You will too, if you do the healing work involved.  You'll  never get a scar until you quit picking at the scab.  And those wounds we pick at, or that run very deep, will leave a much bigger scar.  Honor that.  Know that the bigger the scar, the bigger the recovery has been.

If you find yourself with a pain you can't fix, or a wound that won't heal, see a professional.  They are better prepared to help you heal.  If they offer you helpful drugs, take them.  If they tell you to rest, whatever that means for your particular injury, rest.  And don't forget to go back after  you heal for a checkup.

You got this.