Sadness Affirms Life

We have a chance to learn so much about ourselves during and through heartache, loss, and crisis. At the point where a wound tears deep into the recesses of our being, we are most likely confronted with a dark place. Doubt and impossible-to-climb-out-of boxes can taunt our intellect and our emotional well being.

I've learned quite a bit about myself recently, as a result of losing someone very dear to my heart. We all grieve. I think that's a fair statement. But what I'm beginning to understand about the human experience is that maybe we all grieve differently. And for the very first time in my life, I'm realizing that I cope with emotional crisis in a unique way: by writing about my childhood. The kicker is I'm not sure why.

With a mild to moderate case of OCD, I tend to obsess. When crisis hits my life, I tend to obsess more. And that can become dangerous, depending upon how I choose to handle my thought life. Maybe, just maybe, I have learned to build up a defense mechanism against the pain by turning my memory back to a point in time when life was simple, before the onset of my obsessions and manic thought episodes.

Maybe there's more. I remember being able to play for hours on end with nothing more than a few die-cast cars and trucks in my bedroom. No friends. No motherly or fatherly companion. I chose it that way. Total seclusion was something I didn't so much dislike. It came naturally to me. I would build entire stories in my head and Dukes of Hazzard episodes, scripted down to the smallest detail. Hour upon hour, I would play.

And now, I replay those moments in real-time, across the neurons, from the projector in my mind. It's a safe place. And in that place, I'm reminded just how fragile I am.

Life is fragile. To live is to be in need. In other words, where there is life, there will be pain. They go hand in hand. No matter how hard you try, in order to live, you must be able to deal with pain. But as I'm beginning to learn, maybe there's a greater story to be learned than just being able to pull yourself up by the boot-straps and being able to "deal with it."

Human beings are so funny. I'm such an odd duck. But even in my awkwardness, I'm so thankful for the chance to breathe and suck in life. It truly is a miraculous thing.

I'm thankful that God places a crisis in my life every once in awhile. It's messed up to say, maybe. I don't like the pain. I'm not one of those. And the grief is more than I can seem to bare. But somewhere in all of that, there is a quiet voice that assures my heart that all is not lost. On the contrary, much is gained. Because, in those times. I can begin to appreciate the simple, smallest things like: running water, clean underwear, and oxygen.

When is the last time the simple, yet profound process of breathing moved you to appreciate life? When is the last time you prayed earnestly to be able to appreciate life more through and during your pain? We are sustained, whether we realize it or not. For the next moment, if it doesn't freak you out, visualize what your breath looks like as it exits your mouth. To what part(s) of the room does it travel? When you inhale, where does the oxygen go? What body parts absorb it?