We are not computers
But sometimes it feels like we are.
There are so often more many shades of gray as opposed to just something black and white which would be easier. And the path is really a fractal or a spiral, it’s not straight even when it is. And the consistence that we strive for, it goes against humanity because we are flawed and things don’t stay the same even when we try to keep the constant.
The way the brain protects you when you are grieving is remarkable but I can’t lie and say that it didn’t feel like I was being rebooted. In fact, I definitely feel like I was reduced to being a computer and the code was being deleted and adjusted and defragmented. You don’t get the option of finding specific files with specific memories or photos you can see in your head moments. That would be too easy. But wouldn’t it be nice to be able to download what you recall into something tangible and external, not to remove it but just to have it somewhere specific and safe?
The levels of shock that slowly fall away as you “heal”, it seems like there’s no end to them and that’s OK because you only realize how much your brain was protecting you after you’ve come through some of it and you see where you were, as opposed to where you are. So it’s hard to be aware of that, while you’re going through it especially if you are devastated like most of us are when something like this happens. There is some internal wisdom and great knowledge that is somehow unconscious and the brain handles much more than we could possibly be aware of. There’s so many unconscious/subconscious happenings, like the body still running like the machine that it is, and the brain minimizing access. It’s like there’s stuff I know I don’t remember, not necessarily from the past, but from the aftermath of Jon’s death and I don’t know if I want to remember it ever. I hope it doesn’t come back, it’s good that it’s faded away in time and protection. But that doesn’t make it any less weird or odd or feel like something’s missing when you realize there are blanks or things you just can’t recall; you cannot pull the recall even though you know it’s there and you know you were there.
Emotions and memories are messy and come with no discernible edges. Things weave in and out and connect in strange ways that are mainly intangible and you wouldn’t see the stitching because it’s very fine but there are no hard edges and that would make things easier sometimes. Like I say, if there were black and white to be discerned, it would make things easier and we could classify them as good or bad or here or gone or whatever… I don’t know if that makes sense. I just know that knowing that he’s gone versus feeling like he’s gone are two very distinct things and I was there when he left. He’s been gone since that moment. And this is ver nearly 4 years later and it doesn’t feel entirely real still. So I guess that’s an issue I have with acceptance. Having something like that play out right in front of you and I wasn’t entirely numb to what was happening around me, I was very lucid. For a great deal of the time. I couldn’t escape it.
Things I used to use for escape didn’t work anymore, because I had been rebooted or endured a hard reset. Lots of computer analogies made sense to me in this aftermath, but I think that’s a little oversimplifying, because the human experience is so much messier and the edges are so blurred from one thing to the next as to never know one thing or another for sure. That sounds crazy but that’s what it feels like. There is so much you want to believe or have final, because you know you believe that they’re dead. And maybe it does feel like that to you. But there are so often a disconnect and it takes a longgggg time to connect. I understand cognitive dissonance now in the worst way because how could this be real? Even though I was there, even though I was the one that called for the ambulance, even though I was the one that sent him off to be helped. And I knew following behind them that it was a lost cause and he was already gone.
It just doesn’t want to compute. 💔
