From the vortex of grief: On societal repression of trauma

As I have mentioned in several posts before, my mother has had a long and arduous journey of trauma and grief. Many times, in the middle of a happy occasion, she would start crying. She would rarely want to celebrate, or go on trips. The only thing she found peace in was work. She left early at my wedding, something I couldn't comprehend. I have always attributed all of this to her being a workaholic. Only now, when death stands close to someone I love, I understand how loss breaks you on the inside.

Yesterday, on a phone call, I confessed to her that life seemed colorless to me. I couldn't enjoy anything, starting from things as basic as sleep and food. After a night's sleep, I woke up feeling unrested and tormented. Even my favorite food felt tasteless and bland.

She told me This is how I've felt for so many years. All those years of unprocessed grief, it adds up. When my brother died at 25, I was still very young, and had just gotten married. I felt compelled to move on from his death, to try and be cheerful. When my Mom had a stroke, you were in your tenth, and I had to again stay normal for your sake. When my sister died a few years later, I felt like I just couldn't go on, but I had to get back. There was so much going on in your life- your masters, graduation, first job, marriage. And so, I once again moved on, and went about doing whatever was necessary. But now, after this happened to your Dad, all of that grief has come back to me. I am unable to function, and I feel that I just cannot get back from this.

I was shocked, and appalled. How had I lived with this person for more than quarter a century without realizing that she was struggling so badly? Why did everyone, including me, ask her to stop crying and move on? 

Move on, move  on, move on. This seemed like the incessant chant from a dysfunctional society that can't handle grief, and only teaches people how to repress it. For my Mom, crying and talking about what had happened were ways to cope with her grief. For me, perhaps writing is a coping mechanism. But barely anyone is willing to give people the space to grieve. Even people who are close prefer to be distracted by the nice and shiny things in life, and don't want to confront the dark underbelly of grief. Perhaps they are scared, and rightfully so. When confronted by the harsh reality that life is ephemeral, what can one say? And so we ask our near and dear to bury their grief with the dead, and put on a mask of happiness and strength.

But this mask is suffocating, and it only damages people in the long run. To heal and recover, we must first have the space to grieve and mourn. We must have the space to express our pain and sorrow, whatever that form of expression may be, and be heard by people without flinching. Without placating us with meaningless platitudes such as "It all happens for the good." "It was part of God's plan." "You have to be strong because of xyz".

Dear Reader, the next time someone in grief opens up to you, be with them. Sit in the discomfort of their pain. Listen, even if you do not have the words to comfort. Do not invalidate their grief or trivialize it. Whatever you do, do not ask them to move on. Like me, you probably mean well, but it takes time to find closure. Give people that time.