Mourning the Loss that Hasn’t Happened

Everybody has their own ways of grieving. One of the ways I do it is prematurely.

Somewhere along the line of any given relationship in my life, my imagination will concoct a terrible falling out, a devastating breakup, or even a grisly death for the object of my adoration, leaving me in a shivering heap of anguish and despair. In my head, I have lost both my parents, my pet, my husband, every one of my lovers, and most of my friends at one time or another. (Each and every one of them is just fine, at least today.) Needless to say, the very same addled brain that invents these scenes of horror also assures me that I’m a perfect idiot for believing it, for allowing such bizarre fantasies to cause such a strong emotional reaction. (ICYMI, check out my previous post about being bad at depression.)

This morning, as I was out for my run and considering this phenomenon of mourning losses that haven’t happened, it occurred to me why it might be serving me better than I think. I remembered the vivid dream I had of saying goodbye to my grandfather about a month before he actually died. And I remember how having done it in the dream, in person, softened the blow of not having been there in person when it happened in real life. I think about how many times I have had a waking nightmare about my pet bird getting sick or injured or lost, and I realize that those nightmares have equipped me pretty well to respond decisively and in her best interests, should any of those things actually occur.

And I think about how, in my most recent relationship, I had one of these episodes about him after we’d only been dating for about a month and were barely past the peak of giddy NRE*. Existing with him in the space of loss, when everything else was going beautifully, made it a tiny bit less hard, if no less painful, when our status abruptly changed. It also allowed him to be a source of comfort for me in a way that I would remember later, when I was consumed with grief and loneliness in the aftermath of that change.

So I guess maybe my brain is, in its own clumsy way, trying to help by showing me possible futures, that I might brace myself for whatever may come and do the best I can with whatever hand I am dealt. If anybody needs me, I’ll be curled up on the couch, mourning the losses that haven’t happened. And also the ones that have.

*NRE= “New Relationship Euphoria” — the phenomenon of manic glee that accompanies falling in love