Good Grief
“No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.”
Pain is taught as this horrible, monolithic inevitability to be avoided at all costs rather than something that is malleable that also molds us. No one wishes to feel pain, that is, no one wishes to feel pain unless the pain they are after is a ploy to rid them of another form of pain. We tend to trade pain as humans rather than find the good thing that can come from it and allow it to run its course.
We are no more impervious to pain than a car is to signs of needing maintenance. That’s what it is —a sign. I’m sure it isn’t just me, but I’ve had moments when I had no idea I got cut until the wound became exposed to some element. How often have you failed to realize you had a paper cut until you washed your hands? Pain is an indicator letting us know that something is up, but we don’t always recognize the early signs.
Break-up grief has become rather obvious, as often as we’ve all experienced it, but what about the signs that come before the pain of letting go? We get to know someone enough to realize that there are areas of concern, but we people aren’t as easy to return as shoes are. You’re almost guaranteed to walk away with the more suitable size, a full refund, or something equally cute in its place. The grief we feel when we are met with the option of tossing a person back into the dating pool where we found them, is based on a fear that we’ll miss out on something if we do, coupled with the fear of uncertainty that we’ll ever get the opportunity to meet someone that we like as much ever again. Fear makes us dramatic, even if it's just in our heads.
Somehow, when it comes to the lessons that should come with our experiences, we often talk ourselves out of learning. We trade the pain of letting go of the possibilities that might come with this new person that feels less than 50% compatible for the pain of learning in real-time that beneath the few commonalities were inconsistencies and an iceberg of red flags that were glowing yellow in the distance. What we don’t allow ourselves to realize is, there are lesser pains with intentions to help us avoid the greater ones.
Anytime I mention celibacy and how long I’ve been at it, it’s met with sentiments like, "Oh my God! How is that possible?"
I never want it to sound holier than thou, and I never want to lead anyone to believe that it should be easy. One of the things that makes it possible is the fact that I have allowed myself to learn that the pain of discipline is more manageable than the pain of disappointment (in whatever form disappointment takes). I would rather feel the strain of tip-toeing around my interest in dating, avoiding the premature closeness that was once so appealing to me, than position myself in the line of fire of mismatched romance that would leave me alone to pick the shrapnel from my heart later.
Discipline has become my armor, but it does not come without its own grief —a fear that the wait will be for nothing or frustration for the moments that go down like pills without water when love would allow it to be a smoother ride. Even then, memories of the bitter pill moments caused by connections that should never have been sometimes fail to be the necessary reminder. Those moments of fear of what might never happen, the moments of frustration for the absence of the love that you want to help you through the moments of longing for the love you do not have; it is then that grief is its strongest.
In those moments, resentment is thick, and self-sabotage waits at the gate in the wooden horse that you can name whoever the person in your life is that brings you the most temptation to step out on your promise to yourself. In those moments, we forget the heartbroken bout that brought us to our knees, bargaining with God that if He took the pain away, we would move differently.
The grief that comes with discipline can be strong enough to trigger a trade in the opposite direction, but that’s when the faith you’ve been building through this work that you’ve been doing comes in handy. You'll remember Jeremiah 29:11, “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.”
It isn't normal to consider pain good. Pain hurts, but there is a difference between hurtful and harmful. Reframing the pain of discipline and all it comes with as good, in the same way, we do the pain of exercise, is helpful when our moments of weakness return. It helps us to remember that there is a desired end on the other side of discipline — that you're not saying no to yourself just to tell yourself no. It's like avoiding shopping to save up to make an important purchase. What you're saying no to right now isn't love itself or the expressions of love it comes with. You're saying no to pursuing those expressions of love outside of the safety of alignment with someone that is to you what you need to build each area of your life. The things you're saying no to now will come back around when this alignment happens. You just have to remember that discipline isn't restrictive for the sake of restriction but for the sake of the realization of a desired end.
We'll talk more about the role alignment in love plays in each area of life.
PRAYER
God, waiting is a battle against my nature— a nature that you created. I know that things aren’t exactly as you intended for them to be, but going against some of the most basic instincts hasn’t been easy. Even when I remember where I came from, the promises I made to myself and you when I was in that dark place after the last time I trusted my own efforts, it still doesn’t feel like enough to keep me away from rushing into something to satisfy my need to feel loved. Help me to withstand internal and external pressures. I trust that you know what’s best for me, and there’s a part of me that wants to see that more than anything else. My new process is under attack by my old habits. The new thing you’re doing in my life is being railroaded by temptations to jump the gun and find a for now fix. I need the self-control that you offer. I need your Spirit, your strength, and your help to get through this. Help me. Keep me reminded of your promises to me. In Jesus’s name, Amen.
REFLECT
What are some of the areas you’ve experienced emotional pain? What are the triggers they’ve birthed, and what self-destructive tendencies have you curated as a response to those triggers? How do those triggers work against your desired end? Create a diagram of cause and effect. Show yourself what happens when you revert to old ways and remind yourself how intentional the life you want requires you to be.