The class that I’m taking this semester, Human Growth and Development, has a research paper component, and unlike the last class I took, we have the opportunity to choose our research topic from any/all possible fields.
Gulp.
While I don’t generally like for people to make my choices for me, I am easily overwhelmed by too many choices. Having never taken a human development class before, the simple act of choosing a research topic felt like having a scale a sheer, tall cliff without a net or a spotter or training or hand grabs or those special pointy shoes or. . .or. . .you get the idea.
Before I launched into full freak-out mode, I remembered the first rule of writing: write what you know.[1] So. What do I know? How can my life experience give me a paper topic?
Retail during the holidays? Nah, not much development there, but lots of pathology for sure.
People who anthropomorphize their pets? Not enough emphasis on humans.
Organization as a means of procrastination? Nope, still not right.
This time of year makes me think of my family and how it has changed over the last few years. I am well-acquainted with grief and I understand how grief can change a person. So I decided to write about how non-normative events (any unexpected trauma or loss) can impact personality/identity development.
I must confess[2] that I chose this topic for completely selfish reasons. As is the temptation for people in the helping professions, particularly students, I am feverishly trying to figure out if there’s a name for what happened to me in the wake of my mother’s death. Even in the midst of the worst of it, I always had this refrain in my head that something wasn’t quite right. I couldn’t really put my finger on it, but you know how you just know something sometimes? That’s what this was. Is. Was. Whichever.
It does have a name, this thing that I had. Complicated Grief is what it’s called.
While not yet a completely separate disorder in mainstream medical literature, it is recognized as grief with, well, complications. The various causes for said complications are, well, complicated, but this kind of bereavement often shows up when someone is suffering multiple losses. (In the months leading up to my Mom’s death, there was some shadiness at work, my dog died, there was some drama with a boy and just when I thought I was on the downside of all of that ugliness, BAM!, November 24 rolls around and is the Worst Thanksgiving Ever. Writing all of that down, without explanation, sort of makes me seem like a pansy. Maybe I am.)
It was a perfect storm of my personality traits plus where I was in my life and it all kind of came unglued, bit by bit, over the next two and a half years. When I wrote about this for the first time, I didn’t really even have words.
I’m not sure why I’m telling you all of this. I guess I’m writing all of this down because I want you to know. I want you to know the weakest parts of who I am and where I’ve been. Quite frankly, it’s kind of ugly and unpleasant.
Anyway.
Today marks five years since that terrible day. I miss my Mom today and every day. If I knew then what I know now I would have tried to be more steadfast; I would have tried to cling to my faith a little [a lot] tighter. I most definitely lost my way and finding my way back to the Lord has been a terrible and remarkable and a grace-filled experience.
——————————–
I waited patiently for the LORD; he turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and fear the LORD and put their trust in him.
Blessed is the one who trusts in the LORD, who does not look to the proud, to those who turn aside to false gods. Many, LORD my God, are the wonders you have done, the things you planned for us. None can compare with you; were I to speak and tell of your deeds, they would be too many to declare.
Sacrifice and offering you did not desire—but my ears you have opened—burnt offerings and sin offerings you did not require. Then I said, “Here I am, I have come—it is written about me in the scroll. I desire to do your will, my God; your law is within my heart.”
I proclaim your saving acts in the great assembly; I do not seal my lips, LORD, as you know. I do not hide your righteousness in my heart; I speak of your faithfulness and your saving help.
I do not conceal your love and your faithfulness from the great assembly.
Do not withhold your mercy from me, LORD; may your love and faithfulness always protect me. For troubles without number surround me; my sins have overtaken me, and I cannot see. They are more than the hairs of my head, and my heart fails within me. Be pleased to save me, LORD; come quickly, LORD, to help me.
May all who want to take my life be put to shame and confusion; may all who desire my ruin be turned back in disgrace. May those who say to me, “Aha! Aha!” be appalled at their own shame. But may all who seek you rejoice and be glad in you; may those who long for your saving help always say, “The LORD is great!”
But as for me, I am poor and needy; may the Lord think of me. You are my help and my deliverer; you are my God, do not delay.
Psalm 40
[1] This might not really be the first rule of writing. I pretty much just made that up on the spot but it sounds reasonable, right?
[2] . . .that my loneliness is killin’ me now/don’t you know I still believe. . . okay, got carried away there. My bad.
