"Ambiguous grief." I am glad you put a name on it. Often we think we can only grieve losing a thing or a person, but the loss of mental or emotional "possessions" are felt as deeply or maybe even more so.
I can remember sitting in my empty condo in Houston after my divorce in the 70's. A deep sadness filled me, not so much about the divorce, but the loss of innocence about how life unfolded. We were in our late 20's, early 30's and we were supposed to get married, become mature, and live happily ever after. Restless spirits in restless times sent us careening off course and off script.
Both of us were ambiguous about marriage but felt social pressure to conform. We were ambiguous about the responsibilities of being married or of even being adults. We were ambiguous about hurting other people or each other. We were selfishly hedonistic and saw no real reason to be otherwise. We were mere phantoms living etherial lives.
Amorphous and ambiguous means without a form or shape... lacking substance. Somewhere along the way I had left my body and was simply floating through life without direction or purpose. While no actual death had occurred, I sensed a deep yearning for a sense of Self that I had lost contact with somewhere along the way. There was no defining event, just a series of empty feelings of ennui and loss of passion. I suppose my spirit had died, but not dramatically instead simply withering away from neglect.
Until that moment, I had been able to tell myself that my sadness was temporary and perhaps just the price paid for being alive. It was the emptiness of the place that pierced me deeply allowing me a sense of the emptiness within me as well. My empty ambiguity peaked its way into my consciousness and haunted me for years asking for witness and recognition. Psychologist Matt Licata speaks of the need to "metabolize" change, transforming it into substance that nourishes us. It took me quite a few years of rumination to discover how to nurture my soul and to transform the amorphous into the morphic and be embodied. Otherwise, surely I would have starved.
Ambiguous grief. I think this is what I've always called Loss. grieving what was lost throughout childhood neglect and abuse ie loss of innocence, education, career, family, self love, self esteem, & eventually loss of relationship, respect & dignity loss of feeling safe in the physical world. I'm mourning the mother, daughter relationship my mother passing a primal wound and my daughter and grand daughters being estranged and distant. loss of being homesick and being excited to go home loss of connection to that home, loss of peace forever feeling haunted by the final blow.
"Ambiguous grief." I am glad you put a name on it. Often we think we can only grieve losing a thing or a person, but the loss of mental or emotional "possessions" are felt as deeply or maybe even more so.
I can remember sitting in my empty condo in Houston after my divorce in the 70's. A deep sadness filled me, not so much about the divorce, but the loss of innocence about how life unfolded. We were in our late 20's, early 30's and we were supposed to get married, become mature, and live happily ever after. Restless spirits in restless times sent us careening off course and off script.
Both of us were ambiguous about marriage but felt social pressure to conform. We were ambiguous about the responsibilities of being married or of even being adults. We were ambiguous about hurting other people or each other. We were selfishly hedonistic and saw no real reason to be otherwise. We were mere phantoms living etherial lives.
Amorphous and ambiguous means without a form or shape... lacking substance. Somewhere along the way I had left my body and was simply floating through life without direction or purpose. While no actual death had occurred, I sensed a deep yearning for a sense of Self that I had lost contact with somewhere along the way. There was no defining event, just a series of empty feelings of ennui and loss of passion. I suppose my spirit had died, but not dramatically instead simply withering away from neglect.
Until that moment, I had been able to tell myself that my sadness was temporary and perhaps just the price paid for being alive. It was the emptiness of the place that pierced me deeply allowing me a sense of the emptiness within me as well. My empty ambiguity peaked its way into my consciousness and haunted me for years asking for witness and recognition. Psychologist Matt Licata speaks of the need to "metabolize" change, transforming it into substance that nourishes us. It took me quite a few years of rumination to discover how to nurture my soul and to transform the amorphous into the morphic and be embodied. Otherwise, surely I would have starved.
So good, and right on. Thank you Jeff.
Ambiguous grief. I think this is what I've always called Loss. grieving what was lost throughout childhood neglect and abuse ie loss of innocence, education, career, family, self love, self esteem, & eventually loss of relationship, respect & dignity loss of feeling safe in the physical world. I'm mourning the mother, daughter relationship my mother passing a primal wound and my daughter and grand daughters being estranged and distant. loss of being homesick and being excited to go home loss of connection to that home, loss of peace forever feeling haunted by the final blow.
I want to thank you for putting words to things that I have no words to explain.