The Misery Cycle

Let’s get something straight from the onset:

When a great loss occurs, especially those shocking, out-of-order losses that our culture can’t rationalize, everyone has something to say. Opinions abound. Well-intentioned comments fly wayward and become criticisms; grief timelines conflict. The train, already derailed, finds the trees.

And as a result, pain is needlessly multiplied. Over and over and over again.

But here’s the thing, the ultimate crux of the whole deplorable mess – no one has a say.

No one but you.

Sure the train is off the rails, but you’re still driving; it’s still your life, your loss, and thus, your choice. The spectators don’t get to decide.

Unfortunately, more often than not, we still find the trees. Grief journeys are difficult; they’re tortuous, riddled with snares and unexpected twists and turns. But strangely, for many of us, it’s not the abrupt twists and turns that lead us into the forest. We don’t fall victim to the unexpected; we don’t go down fighting.

We simply crash on purpose.

We choose the trees.

The reasons behind this phenomenon are deeply complex and go beyond the scope of this post (and certainly beyond my understanding of psychology), but they have their foundation in something I call The Misery Cycle. What follows is a simplification of that process.

When we lose someone (or something) we love, we embark upon a personalized grief journey. I use the word ‘personalized’ because each journey is unique; they follow different timelines, traverse different landscapes, and often arrive at different destinations. Also important to note is that some grief journeys begin before an actual loss is sustained; perceived loss is still loss, and thus elicits a legitimate grief response. This can frequently cause grief timelines to conflict, and may have dramatic repercussions for the griever.

Step 1: We want to be miserable.

The cycle begins here – we’re grieving.

We’re in the depths of agony; we weep, we isolate ourselves, we believe the future is bleak and terminal. This phase may last anywhere from a few weeks to several decades – again, every journey is different – but the important thing is that we get comfortable here. It makes sense. We think, grief is the price of love, so this is how I should be feeling.

That rationale is not inherently flawed – grief is indeed a natural response to love and loss – but it leads us to make an erroneous and damaging assumption: if our pain ever gets better, that must mean our love is getting weaker.

This casts grief as a punitive exercise. It is our penance for some perceived wrongdoing. We somehow deserve this agony, and if it ever hurts less, that must mean we are forgetting our loved one, loving them less. And we then replace our grief with something much less productive – guilt.

We are comfortable in misery. It greets us like an old friend; it links us to all that we lost, and we just can’t let it go.

Step 2: Everyone else wants us to be miserable.

This is the voice of the masses, the well-intentioned comments of friends and family that fly wayward and do irreparable damage. These are the clichés and platitudes. These are the opinions and the judgments.

This is all the confirmation we need.

We are not meant to be happy. Our time of flourishing has long since passed us by; it died along with our loved one. Those we love most confirm that our future betrays our past, and the only righteous recourse is to remain gridlocked in our stale, miserable present.

Step 3: We are miserable.

If you get to step 3, it’s already terminal. You’ve believed the lies, made all the wrong assumptions, and your grief has solidified into a metastatic, unmovable guilt.

If you get to step 3, you believe you belong at step 3. For the long term. Into perpetuity.

Misery has become your home and you’re all moved in.

Welcome to the trees, my friend.

But please, take hope. There is a better way.

Let’s rewrite the cycle:

Step 1: The Law of Conservation of Grief 

Like mass and energy, grief and love are always conserved. They never go away. Healing does not equate to a lack of grief or love, but rather an attenuation of our human response to those universal and unchanging entities.

Grief and love never go away. But pain does. And that’s okay.

Step 2: Confusion Doesn’t Have to Equal Conflict

Your loved ones, by definition, love you. While human errors and unpredictable human emotions are always part of the equation, sincerely malicious attacks and harsh criticisms are rare. Clichés and platitudes are unhelpful, but they most always originate from a benevolent heart and an intention to help.

This in no way delegitimizes the pain caused by careless remarks and ill-timed opinions, but we must recognize that we are not the only ones grieving. When grief timelines conflict, everyone is a victim.

Show grace in the same way you hope to receive it.

Step 3: We continue living.

Just as before, steps 1 and 2 dictate step 3.

If we accept that our grief is not punishment, and that the magnitude of our love for those we lost is in no way proportional to our daily agonies, healing becomes possible. And if we extend stubborn grace to those with whom our grief timeline conflicts, we may just find that our time of flourishing lies ahead, not behind.

And in the end, though we never truly “move on” from our tragedy, we can do the one thing that truly allows us to defeat The Misery Cycle…

We keep living.

A fellow journeyer,

Bryan