The Process

Process:  A series of events which produce a result.

More Grief Group stuff  . . . 

I'm glad I'm going to this group.  It has made me realize that grief takes all shapes and forms, and that grief doesn't have a set of procedures that take a certain amount of time and progress a standard way.  I see from my grief mates that there are all kinds of triggers and intensities and durations, and they're all good and normal and just really fine and OK, unless they're not, and that may take a while to figure out, or longer than that.  I see that there is a tendency for most of us to think: "I'm doing this wrong because I'm not where I should be at this point."

As in most areas of my life I'm incredibly glad that I have The Fellowship especially, in this grief arena, the fellowship part of The Fellowship.  I can't emphasize enough how often I think when someone is sharing in the Grief Group: "This poor woman doesn't have anyone to talk to about this stuff outside of a paid professional."  It makes me grateful that I have the Program part - the Steps - and that I also have the Fellowship part - the people.  I'm confident that I could get and stay sober on a remote atoll if I diligently worked The Steps but it sure enough is nice having people to bounce my weirdness off of.

I am reminded in so many areas of my life how effective the trudging part of anything can be.  I know I talk about The Process where I dutifully try to do all of the things that I know are good for me and then trust that, in the long run, everything is going to work out well.  It's frustrating when you're in the shit, though.  I get that, too.  There's nothing more frustrating than being in the shit and having some joker tell you that everything is going to be OK in the long run.

One of the women in the Grief Group is going through a divorce - after 25 years of marriage - that was initiated by her husband who, of course, has a new girlfriend already.  This woman is pissed.  I get that, too.  I'm also grateful for a program that constantly forces me back into the self-analytical, introspective part of things.  While I get to stand on my own two feet as a child of god, not groveling or sniveling in front of anyone, I'm still expected to do most of my sweeping on my side of the street.  You can have ten feet of rubble and detritus on your side of the street and it's none of my business, assuming of course it isn't blocking my driveway.  Then I need to speak up.

I am reminded of the suggestion that my best prayers are always ones that have others in mind and that they always include the crucial phrase "If it be thy will."  Or "If it be your will" if you want to stay away from Ye Olde English.  I think I can pray for specific things as long as I add that qualifier.  "I'd like my estranged husband to contract flesh-eating disease, if it be thy will." That kind of thing.

I'm glad to say that I think my most important contribution in the group is to be an ass in a seat so that some of these folks have an audience.