Maybe It's Not Anger (maybe it's actually grief)
+ things you can do about it and hope in grief
This October is the almost-one-year mark since my brother rapidly developed Down Syndrome Regression Disorder. The joyful and capable brother I used to have isn’t who he once was. His personality and capabilities have changed dramatically. He’s still alive, but I miss him.
October is also Down Syndrome Awareness Month, so everyone on social media is sharing great posts and photos with gushing captions about the person with Down Syndrome in their life- the joy they bring and the great things they are doing with their lives.
Meanwhile, every morning I wait for a text from my mom about whether my brother is able to talk and eat, if he’s hallucinating, or if he tried to run away in the night, driven by his psychotic delusions.
And my gut reaction to these other people’s wonderful, happy posts is to feel anger.
But through the years of chronic illness, I’ve learned: anger isn’t always actually anger. Sometimes we pick anger over other emotions because the big and loud feeling hides the fragile, scared, and broken parts in us. Anger feels like the safest choice.
In this instance, this “anger” I feel when I see these posts isn’t malicious anger; I don’t want bad things for them, I don’t wish they were suffering, and it’s not their fault that they’re ok and my brother is not.
This anger is really grief.
Grief over the the suffering he and my mom are experiencing, grief over the losses of the past year, and grief over the hundred ways, ranging from tiny to large, this situation affects our lives.
When you ignore grief for too long, it shows up in your body. It physically constricts your chest, so tightly it’s literally, actually, hard to breathe. Grief is like an invisible weight on your back, shoving your shoulders forward in a perpetual slump. It’s grief that tries to make your body curl up in the fetal position.
And it’s grief that looks over the sum whole of my life and compiles the invisible losses sustained over the years in so many areas and whispers in my ear, “it’s too much, we can’t do this.”
Lately I’m noticing more instances where I feel a gut reaction of anger to something innocuous, and to my surprise, when I do a little digging, I find grief hiding there. Little-g griefs may be small, but when ignored they add up to be heavy.
Sometimes, anger is anger. But sometimes, it’s a disguise for grief.
Things you can do about grief:
Americans are allergic to grief I think- and maybe, especially, Christian Americans. We don’t have funerals, we have “celebrations of life”. We like to rejoice with those who rejoice but prefer to skip the weeping with those who weep. We gladly pull out verses like “count it all joy” while ignoring David’s words: “How long, Oh Lord? Will you forget me forever?” We’re quick to be Job’s friends and try to pinpoint why someone’s life has disintegrated and make them a 3-step plan to get it together, but we run for the hills at the thought that Job’s friends also sat in sad silence with him for days on end first.
I’m certainly no expert on grief, but these are a few practical things I’m doing lately to move through emotional pain:
Make space. Reduce the background noise, limit the scrolling, slowly detox from the numbing methods you’ve used to cope. The only way out is through.
Have a good cry. Seriously. If you feel like you need to cry, don’t stuff it. Just cry. Bonus points if you can cry in the presence of someone who cares about you- there’s a reason we’re supposed to weep with those who weep. Don’t tell a trusted friend you’re fine when you’re not, let them be with you in the feelings.
Do something physical. Walk, run, jump on a rebounder, stretch, whatever. Movement gives the angsty physical sensations a place to go.
Journal/write about your feelings, then pray about what you wrote about. This is the lost art of lament that we see in many Psalms. God can handle your real feelings, don’t try to clean yourself up first (because you actually can’t and God knows if you try lol).
And finally, meditate on truth, because we have hope during grief. I still have so many questions on why God allows what He allows, but I’m choosing to defiantly believe that God is good even during pain.
Hope we have in grief:
Since therefore the children share in flesh and blood, he himself likewise partook of the same things, that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery.
Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope.
He will swallow up death forever; and the Lord GOD will wipe away tears from all faces, and the reproach of his people he will take away from all the earth, for the LORD has spoken.
Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful.
He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away."
I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation.
And he who was seated on the throne said, "Behold, I am making all things new."
Also he said, "Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true."
Hebrews 2:14-15, 1 Thessalonians 4:13, Isaiah 25:8, Psalm 13:5, Hebrews 10:23, Revelation 21:4-5
Thanks for your honest reflections on grief. Like many, I've come to learn this through personal experience. I appreciate others, they seem few, who recognize if for what it is. May you find blessing in the midst of it.