It is a truism in counselling that one's ability to cope with change is strongly connected to how one views change- if we see change as the end of something then it is likely to be much harder to come to terms with but if we see change as creating potential for an interesting and constructive future then we are more likely to come to terms with this newness earlier.
In and of itself grief seemingly has no constructive use. Why do we grieve? Why have we evolved the ability to feel such incredible fissures through our mind during grief with no discernible use for such pain? I don't know why we grieve but I know, through personal and professional experience, that we can have courage to continue and live a new life, of sorts, after great loss.
I have endeavoured to create a greater sense of control in some aspects of my life because it is possibly the most positive influence towards good mental health (the obverse of this coin is that a great deal of mental distress comes from lack of control and autonomy- assault, illness, neglect and grief put us into psychic pain due, primarily, to being "out of control" and, often, the less control we have during a distressing incident the greater the trauma as seen in people who develop severe and complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder). Help can come from a desire for control which can be damaging (such as the development of an eating disorder or ingestion of psychoactive drugs) or constructive (such as exercise or psychotherapy). Our long term coping ability is strongly influenced by our sense of personal control.
I have worked hard to force myself to consider positive changes after Ruby died, to force myself to consider any good that can come out of it all and to regain control of my life. This has lead me to consider my life in a way I have never done before and to not be afraid to ask the largest question I have ever asked myself, maybe the largest question anyone can ask themselves- how will I live?
Everything changes. Some things more, some things less, but everything changes. To help me cope navigating these changes I have to consider my route or I will remain forever floating in a directionless sea, a slave to fatalism and the whim of others. If I consider my own fate, if I live how I want to live, I have control. And if I make my future I can become what I want.
So what do I want to become and how will I live to achieve this? I want to become someone that Ruby would be proud to call her daddy. I have high but reasonable ambitions- I want to do no harm, I want to do good, I want to love more, I want to play a greater part in my friendships and in my community of human strangers, I want to defend the vulnerable, I want to take care of other living organisms and the environment. All these things involve active participation and consideration in my world so how do I do it?
I did, and continue to do, what I can- I have become vegetarian, I stopped all sneaky cigarettes, I exercise more than ever, I try very hard to be sociable and to interact more warmly (this is harder than it sounds because I am a bit of a loner and tend to prefer my own company), I consciously identify and try not to concern myself with things beyond my control and, instead, I consider things over which I do have control, I am more concientous at work, I am more dismissive of irrelevances, I put effort into finding and identifying beautiful things (whether this is pottery, food or flowers), I challenge bullies and so on.
There are other potential positives worth considering through this process of change:
Ironically, my consideration of control and change has identified the need to let go, too. Knowing what I need to dismiss, and then dismissing it, has helped me. I have no control over Rubys existence now, she is not alive and never will be, I will never see her again (it has taken two years since her death for me to have the ability to even write such words). I have worked very hard at dismissing the idea that I will see her again and instead try to focus on the things I do have control over ie. what do I do instead? I have been forced into realising the importance of letting go and the therapeutic benefits this has for me.
Grief has brought a new found sensitivity in me providing an increased responsiveness to subtle maltreatment by others. In connection it has also sensitised me to fragility and tenderness and has matured my appreciation of delicacy.
I am not alone among colleagues, friends and my patients who have been through traumatic loss in using humour as a foil to abstemious pomposity, a very useful coping mechanism. When communicating with people who take themselves too seriously (inflated egos, over-confidence) I now have the strength to suggest a gentle deflation. Many people I have met who have been through strong distress have an ability to raise their head up to a universal perspective and have an acute sense of what really matters and, more importantly, what doesn't. If something is not essential don't take it seriously.
There has been the kindness of strangers, the new knowledge that everyone has a story worth hearing, an increased understanding of great distress, treating everyone carefully because I don't know "what battles they have going on down there where the spirit meets the bone" (as beautifully put by the musician Lucinda Williams), giving everyone new that I meet the same foundation I give a new painting- the advantage of a good light.
The essential expectation and hope is that my future has potential and it can be in my control. It has potential for suffering, of course, but also laughter, love, growth, warmth, beauty, reward through endeavour and maybe eventual happiness.
