Spring Ahead Fall Out
While many folks were snugly snoozing, taking advantage of that precious extra hour gained from daylight savings time being over until next spring, my husband and I were up and out early on that cold but clear first Sunday of November.
We had to return a slow moving back-hoe to a local customer's shop. As my husband, who can drive anything, maneuvered that tall piece of equipment down the usually congested streets, I followed him in my car, at a safe distance, using my 4 way flashers as warning signals for any lone car that was to come up behind me.
Without the assertive drivers and the constant flow of traffic, I felt an appreciation for the peaceful appearance of my New England town and confirmed my thought that autumn is the most beautiful season. (That beauty which comes before the beast of winter!)
The low speed started to make me antsy, so I turned on the radio to distract myself. If there ever was a time that I believed in a "meant to be" moment, that was it.
There was a talk show on (probably on NPR, one of my presets) where the guest speaker was talking about studies of feelings of grief, trauma, and how past events effected memories and healing.
He went on to describe how veterans look at their war experiences differently. With much more description and a full explanation, with examples, he said how some of the vets of the earlier wars have fond and proud memories.
He explained that memories without trauma seem to get better over the years, while the vets who went through severe trauma and some who didn't have welcoming home comings had memories that were just as bad or painful as when these events happened. (I'm generalizing his very detailed studies.)
He discussed adults who were abused as children and how they can relive the pain (which might have been temporarily buried or forgotten) by a sudden whiff of a scent, or tune of a song, where they can close their eyes and remember every detail of the room of the traumatic event. They suddenly physically and emotionally relive the feeling that they experienced many years earlier.
He pointed out that it's only just recently that psychological care and therapy has realized that just because someone who works through it and is told it wasn't their fault, or how it's over now, that these feelings are still physically real. The patient can be rational and acknowledge what well meaning people are telling them to try to help them, but they still feel whatever feeling that they experienced during their original trauma.
He pointed out how when in mourning, the shock, sadness, regrets, guilt or whatever emotion a death can bring up is normal, it needs to be felt. In most circumstances, time softens the anguish, and life can go on.
Even though being told of a death seems to feel traumatic to all at first, some cases do cause real trauma. No matter how often that person is told that they are a good daughter, son, parent, etc. that traumatized person still lives with those real feelings. Those feelings should be recognized, acknowledged and not denied.
While listening to the speaker, I kept thinking of a dear friend. She was having a hard time with the circumstances of a death of her loved one, even though she was wonderful to that person.
I realized in trying to make her feel better, and "get over it" by explaining how we can't change the past, and to remember all that she did and how much she was loved and appreciated, I now feel like I was telling her to stop feeling her real feelings. My words were true, but I had no right to give the impression she was wrong in having those feelings.
Which brings me to my feelings. After a whirlwind year of changes, consisting of births, deaths, divorces, weddings, engagements, new homes, selling childhood home and being the responsible adult in a great many directions, especially of finances, and paperwork, but also physical care as well, my feelings have become "sensitive".
I've experienced the biggest high I've had in years by the birth of my first grandchild. He brought back the hope that had almost completely disappeared a few years ago. I know things would be very different for me right now if he hadn't come into my life.
Very recently, I've also had the realization of who I can really count on when I need someone. In hindsight, it shouldn't be a surprise, especially since I had lost hope for quite a while. (The "OLD" me was always too hopeful, in an unrealistic way. That guaranteed my hopes would be crushed. And they were, over and over, big time!)
This week so far, though well meaning, I have been kindly told, "You shouldn't feel like that", "Try not to feel like that", and a couple of other well meaning variations.
That's how I felt. I didn't want to feel that way, but that's how I felt.
As I tried to explain my point of view of feelings that I didn't fully understand myself, I knew the listener wasn't hearing or understanding my words. It's normal to become defensive and/or make up excuses for others. It's common to judge, try to fix or solve the problems of others.
That's how I felt. Why can't my feelings ever count?
I'VE TRIED TO CONSIDER EVERYONE ELSES FEELINGS FOR YEARS!!!
I regretted trying to explain my feelings, because then the drama started to kick in, and childhood memories took over...The smell of supper cooking, the sound of TV on in the background and how I was cut short and angrily told "You shouldn't feel like that..."
Any feelings I have from now on, I will embrace. I'm not going to bury them anymore.
I'm springing the trap, setting them free.
When someone thoughtlessly hurts my feelings, it will be their loss. If they don't realize how I supported them in the past, it doesn't matter. That time is over.
It's my time, now. I'm slowly giving up being the responsible adult who is invisible and overlooked.
I know one little person who smiles the moment I enter his field of vision. It melts my heart to see him, too.
11/18/2014
