The Ocean of Grief

Have you ever experienced grief? Specifically, grief from the loss of a loved one? It sucks. That's all there is to it.

I've experienced a lot of grief of this nature in my life. A lot. Twenty times or so. I've counted. In one of my darker moments I started a mental list of all the people who's passing had a direct effect on my life. I came up with 20. I won't list them out here, because that's personal. But grief and I are on a first name basis.

Here's what I've learned about grief: it's a bitch. But it's very predictable...if you understand the ocean and how it works. I'll explain:

First, let's talk about waves. Waves are comprised of two parts: the crest and the trough. The crest is the high point, and the trough is the low point. See Figure 1 below.

Figure 1: Waves Explained
Imagine you are visiting the ocean. The water is calm, it's so calm that it is perfectly still. You walk out into the ocean and you stop when the water hits your chest. As you're standing there, the waves start to pick up. As the waves grow you notice that when the crest washes over you, you're completely submerged. (If you remain flat footed on the ocean floor.) But when you're in the trough portion of the wave, the water is only at your waist. This is how waves work.

As waves wash up on the shore, the surface water is moving in, but below the surfaces the water is moving backwards. This ebb and flow can create a situation where the water stops washing up to the shore and instead gets caught in a tumble that builds until the ocean waves behind gather enough steam to push the water forward. If you've spent time standing calf deep in the water, you'll understand this phenomenon. (Refer back to Figure 1: the "orbital path of water, is similar to this...only closer to the shore.)

Imagine standing calf deep, and feeling this tumble of water. Now, your feet are sinking deeper in the sand as the water moves the sand around you. When the big burst of water comes up from behind you are knocked off balance and will find yourself submerged - mostly.

Grief acts in much the same way as the ocean. It hits you in the same way the waves do. When you're first thrown into the sea of grief you find yourself chest deep in the ocean. That first wave comes at you and you feel like you're drowning. That you're never going to be able to breathe again. Then the trough comes. You're able to plant your feet back down and gather your strength back to you. Until the next wave hits, and you're struggling to break the surface again.

Slowly, you're able to get yourself back, near the shore of normal life. You can see it in front of you, tempting you, calling your name. But you're feet are stuck in place, held there by the swirling grief that is still trying to keep you back, preventing you from moving on. As you're getting ready to take that last step out of grief, you find that sudden slam of grief that hits your from behind. You're knocked off your feet again, but this time your head remains above the grief. You momentarily panic, but you're able to recover faster than before. And slowly, you step out of the grief and into normal. It is a new normal, but normal nonetheless.

The secret to surviving grief: don't fight it. If you start fighting the ocean, you will drown. If you fight grief, it will destroy you. Ride the waves, and they will slowly move you back to normal.

I return to the ocean. When you're out in the middle of the waves and you pick up your feet, you can start riding the waves. Think of the surfers - they don't get caught in a perpetual crest/trough cycle. By riding the waves, they are returned to the shoreline. Like them, those found in grief can ride the waves to the shore. By picking up your feet and allowing yourself the chance to feel the grief, to experience the grief, you will allow yourself to heal and return to normal. When you try to keep your feet on the ground, and you fight against the grief because you don't want to feel, you keep yourself stuck where the grief will beat you until you can not stand anymore.

Grief is not there to destroy you, it's there to help you heal. Often, it'll feel like it takes you forever to reach normal. It happens. Each bought of grief is different, each time you are faced with loss, you are dumped in the ocean of grief at a different place than the time before. I have found myself only waist deep with loss. Other times, I find myself treading water when after being unceremoniously dumped. You can never quite predict where you will find yourself.

If you're lucky, you'll find yourself with a life preserver out there. Faith, family, friends. These life preservers can help you keep your head above the waves as you slowly find your way back to normal.

Open Dialogue, Better than Sanctions Since 1944

(I just chose a date, it has no significance. I saw this article (op-ed) on ccn.com this morning and think that she makes great points.)

Hiker freed from Tehran prison: Time for U.S.-Iran ties
By Sarah Shourd, Special to CNN

Editor's note: Sarah Shourd was freed from prison in Iran 2½ months ago. Shourd, her fiancé, Shane Bauer, and Josh Fattal were hiking in the mountains in northern Iraq in July 2009 and were arrested by Iranian border guards, accused of spying and imprisoned. Shourd was released after 410 days in solitary confinement; her companions remain imprisoned. To learn more, visit freethehikers.org.

(CNN) -- When I was in Evin Prison in Tehran, a guard twice brought flowers to my cell. Each time, I'd hear the door open and look up to see her standing there with a huge smile and homegrown roses. I was speechless with gratitude.
When I broke down and cried, she would hold me in her arms, look me in the eyes and say, "God willing, Sarah, it's going to be OK."
Since my release, many people have wondered why I have not been more condemning of the country that kept me in solitary confinement for 410 days. They have wanted to know why I speak with such conviction about the need for an improved Iranian-U.S. relationship and highlight my love for the Middle East and respect for Muslim culture.
At a very personal level, I never would have been kept in jail for 14 months if Iran and the United States had a better relationship. My fiancé, Shane Bauer, and our close friend Josh Fattal would not still be in prison in Iran today on the baseless charge of espionage.
But there is more to my conviction than the merely personal. I don't believe that the animosity between Iran and the United States is an insuperable obstacle; it's the responsibility of all governments to engage diplomatically, regardless of their differences, and when they can't or don't, it is their people who suffer the most.
This week's nuclear talks in Geneva, Switzerland, involving Iran and the United States, the first in more than a year, are a hopeful sign that there can be a dialogue, as difficult as the challenges may be. Both countries have taken positive steps in recent months that offer some encouragement. Notably, the U.S. has officially designated the Iranian militant group Jundallah a terrorist organization, a decision applauded by Iran.
There is a long way to go toward overcoming the animosities of three decades, but now is the best time for dialogue. When I ask my government, and the Iranian government, to seize this opportunity, I'm thinking of the future. I'm thinking about the children I hope to have someday and about my children's children.
Shane and I had been living in Damascus, Syria, for more than a year before our fateful trip to Iraqi Kurdistan with Josh. I was teaching English to Iraqi refugees and Shane was working as a journalist. We hoped to use our work to counter the negative perceptions of the Middle East and Islam among many Americans and act as a bridge between our cultures. Josh, an environmentalist, was visiting us. He had heard about our experiences and came with an open, curious heart to share in our passion for the region.
How different our situation would have been if the United States had an embassy in Iran when Shane, Josh and I were arrested on the border with Kurdistan, where we had gone hiking. In the absence of a normal U.S.-Iranian relationship, we sat in our cells for two months before our families had any information about us, or we knew anything of what they were going through.
When Swiss diplomats, who represent U.S. interests in Iran, finally got to see us, I was so shellshocked by my isolation that I could barely utter a few words to pass on to my family. At the same time, over the course of my imprisonment, the belief that we could somehow emerge from a very painful experience better equipped to face the problems of our world helped Shane, Josh and I through the seemingly interminable days of loneliness, uncertainty and despair.
In prison, we gave ourselves a choice. We could come out as better people or we could let our experience crush the part of ourselves that we value the most -- the part that allows us to see beyond the differences that appear to divide us from people of other cultures and religions or with different points of view. This vision of religious pluralism and respect for knowledge is rooted in the ideals upon which our country was founded and is something all Americans can share.
More than anything, I want Shane and Josh to be free. I also do not want what happened to us to happen to other people, American or Iranian. I hope our leaders find the courage to begin to break from our nations' hostile past, just as the prison guard who brought me flowers was able to see past my nationality and recognize our common humanity.
The guard and I had very little to build on in terms of a common language, but I would say "one God" in Farsi and she would repeat the words with a solemn nod of the head.
When she found out that I was being released, the guard asked whether I would forget her once I got back to America. I told her I never would.
The opinions expressed in this commentary are solely those of Sarah Shourd.

Let's Be Upfront: I'm not anti-The Pill

I'm not against using the pill as a means of birth control. I'm not against birth control in general either. That being said, I found this article to be really interesting to read.

If you're making a choice, you should have all the information...imho.