A New Normal

     
       Have you ever felt that feeling in your heart? The one that no one likes to feel? The one that feels as though your whole heart has gone through a French press? It's the feeling that has you lie awake at night in agony over whatever is happening in your life; those moments when things get shattered or destroyed. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. I think we all experience that kind of real heart pain at some point in our lives, and it can be absolute agony. As I sit in the counseling office, across from those who are in the midst of their own personal world falling apart, I easily empathize with them, and I pray earnestly that the pain they feel would pass soon. I quickly assess the situation, try to stabilize the 'patient', and then try to help them through their pain. It is both painful and a blessing for me to be a part of such difficult times in a person's life. I am honored to sit in the pit with them. Sometimes I don't say a word. Sometimes I try to bring hope, but the events that happen in the lives of my clients will leave them nothing like they were before that life changing event that brought them into my office.

       A few nights ago, while I sat in class, we began to talk about the topic of grief. The professor facilitating my particular preceptor group began talking about her counseling career and how sometimes it is extremely difficult to listen to a person grieving. We want to fix the problem, but what that person really needs is to come in week after week, sometimes for a very long time, and express their pain. They are not ready to move on, they cannot move on just yet, and usually the counseling room is the only place they really have someone to listen to them, week after week, retelling their heart wrenching story. She spoke about how difficult that can be as a person listening because we often want to help them begin healing, but the truth is, talking about their pain over and over again is a huge part of the healing process. Unless they get it out, they cannot even think about moving on. As I began to think about grief, I thought about the times in my life when I have been stricken with grief. I thought about the times when I felt like I couldn't move on, maybe even months later after the moment of loss took place. Those moments change us, don't they? We aren't quite ever the same, are we? And then I wondered: why are we all in such a rush? Most of us know the feeling of grief well, but why do we always seem to expect those grieving around us to 'get over' their grief so quickly? Why do we all forget within a few weeks of a death that affects a friend, that that friend will be grieving for a very long time? Do we ever really get over a profound loss?

       Recently, I came across this quote from C.S. Lewis, an author I profoundly respect. In his book Grief Observed, he writes,

“Getting over it so soon? But the words are ambiguous.

To say the patient is getting over it after an operation for

appendicitis is one thing; after he’s had his leg off is quite

another. After that operation either the wounded stump heals

or the man dies. If it heals, the fierce, continuous pain will

stop. Presently he’ll get back his strength and be able to stump

 about on his wooden leg. He has ...‘got over it.’ But he will

probably have recurrent pains in the stump all his life, and

perhaps pretty bad ones; and he will always be a one-legged

man. There will be hardly any moment when he forgets it.

Bathing, dressing, sitting down and getting up again, even lying

 in bed, will all be different. His whole way of life will be

changed. All sorts of pleasures and activities that he once took

for granted will have to be simply written off. Duties too. At

present I am learning to get about on crutches. Perhaps I shall

presently be given a wooden leg. But I shall never be a biped again.”

 

       When I came across these words, they resonated deep in my heart. This man knew what it was like to face immense loss. Whether it is an actual amputation, the loss of a child, a spouse, or any other family member, we are changed forever. Whether it is the loss of the dreams we thought we had for our lives, or the loss of physical health, we will never be the same. Perhaps it is the loss of a home or a battle with cancer or the loss of vision or the loss of a friend or whatever 'loss' we experience, life will be different from that very moment of the loss until the day we part from this earth. Our lives will forever be transformed by the things we once had that we no longer have and that's okay.

 

        After pondering this quote for some time, I came to the conclusion that perhaps my job is not to help the person sitting before me return to some sort of 'normal' that they've always been accustomed to, but rather my job is to help them find a new normal. No matter how long it takes, I need to be someone who is willing to walk through the pain with those God puts in front of me and I must not rush the process of healing that needs to take place. We each have experienced things in our lives that have changed us forever, maybe even things that feel as though they have taken our arm or leg with them, but there is hope. No, we will never be the same again. Perhaps it is okay to begin to find healing and closure, even if we are substantially different than we were yesterday.

 

       Reflect for a moment, with me. What have you lost, friend, and how has it changed you? How have you been changed by the things you've experienced in your life? Can you relate to the words of C.S. Lewis? I pray that you will find peace, friends, as you journey through this life, continually changed.