The Art of Suppression

Since I made my conscious decision to suppress all of my feelings, I have not cried for more than five minutes on any given night. That’s quite an accomplishment from somebody who cried for five hours straight last week. That five-hour cry was the catalyst for my decision to stop entertaining my grief for a while.

I thought my therapist thought suppression was wrong, but in actuality, I’m the one who was wrong. He did caution me about suppression and I perceived his cautionary comment as disapproval. He doesn’t disapprove of suppression, though, and he seems to agree that ignoring my own feelings and thoughts of grief is working for me, at least for now.

At the moment, the fact that I am not crying every single moment I am alone is a huge relief. I feel better. I am, however, entirely aware that I am shoving all of what happened into a secret compartment in my brain which I am going to keep closed for a while, maybe from now on.

Do I still feel the empty hole? Yes. At the present moment, I feel as though I’m going to feel that empty hole for the rest of my life. I hope I don’t, but I feel as though I will. Even in the midst of my suppression, I can calmly admit and maintain that I loved my husband very much and I will miss his company, sense of humor and his love for the rest of my days.

My reluctance to pick myself up off the couch and go to bed has returned and lately, I generally sit here until I am way too exhausted to walk. Suppression has its downfalls, but truth be told, I’d rather be exhausted than grief-stricken.

I suppose I ought to try to get some sleep when I’m finished writing. The clock only reads 10:44, but I have been awake since 5:30 this morning and I have grown excessively weary. Still, I can’t ignore the fact that I have been in my own company since 3:00 today and I have not shed a tear. I can’t tell whether I have made progress or numbed myself and I suppose the distinction doesn’t really matter. I made a decision to try to live my life with the same vigor with which I lived before my life fell apart and so far, I am doing it. I’m trying. I want my life to be joyous.

I want my life to be joyous.