Process

When did the word “process” become associated with recovery from emotional trauma? In the past few years, I have heard statements such the following.

“How is Ed processing his job loss?”

“How is Jill processing the separation?”

I find this usage confusing. The word process makes recovery from emotional stress sound orderly, as though on any given day, all we are expected to do is turn to Page 37 the Healing Handbook and perform some neatly summarized coping exercise.

Grief and anguish are not likely to be mitigated by some orderly, pre-defined process. A significant loss throws our lives into chaos. We are traumatized. Basic survival instincts dominate our reactions. We have to apply the emotional equivalent of stopping the bleeding.

I was thinking back to how I might have answered someone if they had asked me decades ago how I was processing my divorce. I don’t recall a process; I did my best each day to endure a difficult situation.

I slept on a couch for three months, because I couldn’t tolerate the loneliness of lying in a bed by myself. I felt like a failure. I had disappointed everyone. I threw myself into my work, because the more time I spent focusing on tasks, the less time I had to spend feeling miserable about my life. I fell into an ill-advised relationship with someone who was struggling with her own problems. When you feel worthless and unlovable, the one person who identifies with your pain seems like the most important person in the world. The smile of a compassionate friend came a welcome refuge from an endless storm of angst and self doubt.

It was not a process; it was chaos. It was like a winter that lasted for years on end. There was no process, only gradual, haphazard healing. Like a fractured bone or lacerated tissue, a broken heart never heals completely.

Copyright © 2018 Daniel R. South 

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