My Least Favorite Idioms

My "Stages" of Grief

Everyone grieves differently, everyone experiences grief on different levels and experiences their range of emotions in a unique way. Example: My mother-in-law told me she sat in the room less than a month later yelling "How could you do this to me?!?!" I have not ever done this. I have felt anger toward a lot of people but not once toward Ryan. Maybe I will one day. Maybe I won't. I've read books where the author's expressed a wide range of emotions toward their loved one after death.

They're allowed.

We're all allowed.

 
Perhaps that's why idioms are so dangerous. In general, it seems, these short quips of "knowledge"/"comfort" were not coined by people with personal experience. Even if they are, however, with a wide range of emotions that occurs after a loss, it is preferred to take possession of the feelings you express: "When I lost my husband, I remember feeling ______." and to probably not insert your own opinion if you've not stood in those shoes. Our friends that are most helpful support us. They don't weigh in on the event of grief or loss itself. They are there to help with tasks we are struggling to accomplish, they share quality time with us, sitting beside us until we are strong enough to rise. My least favorite idioms below:

"Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem"

The phrase attempts to declare that the action of suicide is on a whim, unprovoked, and spontaneous. Perhaps people say this in an attempt to remove the surviving loved one from any guilt associated with knowing or predicting ahead of time. I'm not sure. Even if this was the attempt I can say from experience that survivor's guilt has been one of my most excrutiating components to grief.

I hate this saying because it overlooks significant mental illness.

It silences the reality that for many people, the suicide itself comes after years of struggling, fighting, pushing through when they are exhausted and hurting. My Sweetheart spent years and years struggling without medication, with little professional support, to fight post-traumatic stress and depression and this massive bundle of demons. That fight will wear you out. His problem wasn't temporary - his battle was chronic and he was a warrior for nearly a decade. I wish only that he had more buddies in his corner helping him fight. I wish he didn't feel like he only had me.

Suicide doesn't take the pain away, it simply transfers it to another. 

I understand the thought behind this: for those that have contemplated or are contemplating suicide, it is intended to serve as a reminder that their choice will hurt others. Whoah, whoah whoah. So we guilt trip those that are struggling? Let's phrase it differently: "You know, if you hadn't come down with pneumonia, we'd be having a good vacation right now..." (*snicker**snort* yeah, ok...) My other problem:

Suicide does take the pain away. My Love no longer suffers. 

I will never be the same. I would not want that.

 
Suicide does create new pain for those still here and there is no meter to assign a fraction of his pain to me or my mother-in-law or other friends and family. Ryan is not responsible for my pain any more than he was responsible for my joy. He has been the object of my joy, love and my pain over the years, though I choose - positive or negative - my own emotions. Currently my pain is simply here, present every day in my life. But to equate the pain of my grief to the pain of my Sweetheart's demons and mental tortures would be impossible. I did not share his demons. We experience different attacks on our mind. I cannot quantify the severity of my grief and I will not pass along the responsibility, though I know for many: it's easier to blame the dead.