“Be a frog, be a frog” I breathe to myself. I close my eyes and breathe, just be the frog.
Strange? Eh, maybe, maybe not. Each of us has an internal dialogue, that little voice in the back of our heads that is ever present. Sometimes rude and obnoxious, never shutting up, sometimes quiet and affirming.
My karate master made me very aware of my inner dialogue. If we sized up our opponent and told ourselves we were going to lose, we would. Guaranteed. We had already programmed ourselves to lose. Same with board breaking, mastering complicated forms, didn’t matter, we respond to our interior dialogue.
Hence mine, “be a frog, be a frog.” Why a frog? Some frogs can grow what they need. I realized the first year, actually within the first six months after Justin was killed that I lacked what I needed to survive. Nothing in life prepares you to bury your child, we are conditioned that we will bury our parents, but not our child. The death of a child leaves you with a vulnerability that is indescribable. You are left not only naked, but bleeding from the inside out. It baffles my mind that there were those who instead of feeling compassion, zeroed in on my weakness and went for jugular strikes. Unprepared. I was unprepared. No defenses. I floundered, puzzled, completely shell shocked. Even after the first anniversary I was still defenseless, weaker. Grief beats you up, wears you out.
Took me awhile to realize that this grief journey includes growing a pair, maybe a couple pairs. First set isn’t big enough, but that is a learned experience. I learned that we have to get used to growing what we need, not always comfortable. We can get in our own way, have to get used to the “new” growth. Scary those first few times we actually implement what we have grown, confidence is gained over time. Actually the bigger the pair, the less drama and conflict. There is a certain calm in being the frog.
I have a percolating theory that this growth that takes place in bereaved parents is why our caller ID’s reflect different numbers, why we get “unfriended” on Facebook, why we don’t “fit” anymore where we used to, new growth. Some bumped up against it and were offended, didn’t like what they felt or were told. Some people are scared of frogs, all those warts and bumps, perhaps that is what we look like to people now, our grief makes us look like frogs.
I would not have chosen to be a frog, but to have the inner dialogue of “be a puppy, be a puppy” doesn’t really cut it. So for now, I will keep telling myself to be a frog, grow what you need.
