“Yet why not say what happened?” – Robert Lowell
Grief has many forms we do may have not considered yet. We can grieve a death, a relationship, a lost job, lost time, even objects like a car or a home. Grief has no limits and is personal to each one of us. Grief is defined as “deep sorrow especially that caused by someone’s death. It is a noun which means grief itself is at the root a person, place, or thing. When I think about grief as a noun I am reminded of the many forms and applications this word has.
In my addiction, I went through much grief. I did not realize it at the time, but I was grieving the loss of control, loss of myself, loss of friends and family I was pushing away and hurting. I was grieving the life I had lived, the life I wanted so badly to live, and the joy I once had. My grief was not limited to those people and objects around me, it was bigger than those things.
In a brilliant article “Pay Me Now or Pay Me Later,” John James and Russell Friedman compare the heart to an auto engine. It’s an imperfect world, despite the fantasies of perfectionists, so loss and hurt often start at an early age. “You might recognize the title from an advertising slogan for an automotive product several years ago,” they write. The idea was that if you spend a little money on maintenance now, you might save a tremendous amount replacing an entire engine later.”
“In the auto commercial it was failure to change the oil filter which led to a build up of crud, which clogged and eventually destroyed the motor. Thus, buy an inexpensive filter now or buy a whole new engine later.”
As we go through life, they say, stuffing when we’re hurt instead of grieving, this “crud” builds up around our hearts and thickens year on year. “Grief is negative, and cumulatively negative,” they say, in a key insight.
Then a serious tragedy hits, like a death or divorce, and we don’t realize it, but it triggers all those past hurts we never grieved. Our hearts are breaking inside – but our heart is so hard outside, due to the thick crud, that we can’t see out, so we go into a tailspin.
Now we’re in big trouble and with decades of crud around our hearts. I have heard, seen, and felt the pain of others while they were sharing their own grief letters and 100% of the time, afterwards, they all felt a sense of relief and healing.
While writing my first grief letter during treatment I joked that I would be writing a “grief book”. This is so true for me and I am sure it is true for many of us in recovery. As we move forward and continuously revisit some of the 12 steps, we can also find it helpful to continuously put pen to paper and add to our “grief book”. Some write a letter to their addiction, to alcohol, or to their parents and other loved ones. While some write an autobiographical story about their past traumas or hardships and what led them into the entangling web of alcoholism and addiction.
Each one of us have a different experience with life and the triumphs and challenges. I believe grief letters are extremely important to flush out these emotions and finally find freedom from the weight we carry. We must admit, with brutal honesty, those decisions and choices we have made and the painful outcomes resulting from them in order to grieve, accept, and release.
I have included my first grief letter, on a separate page, written in treatment earlier this year. I hope you find some inspiration for your own. Please share any thoughts with me in the comments section. I look forward to hearing from all of you.