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Writer's pictureSimon Banks

Losing Control: A Note on Grief

I always underestimate the physical reaction that comes with mental distress. It’s a very rude reminder of just how powerful our brains are. I remember that morning. Walking to the bathroom to take a shower while bumping into walls that I had walked past hundreds of times before. My arms were feeling so weak that I couldn’t hold the towel while trying to dry off. I remember my stomach cramping and my feet planted on the ground, yet somehow that very same ground that I couldn’t move from was falling through space and time just praying for something to appear below so the descent could end. Spoiler alert, it didn’t and it hasn’t to this day. I don’t know if the fall will end or if I’ll just get used to it.


This is what my descent into chaos was like. I couldn’t figure out why or how it was chaos, but for some reason, I was sure that it was. In fact, I am sure that this is chaos. It wasn’t until I read the book, The Science of Storytelling by Will Storr that I gained some ground on why certain life events feel like they destroy our whole world. And yes, the life event (which developed into multiple events) that I am referring to was in fact one that is on the extreme side in terms of how it affects people, but regardless, this cataclysmic type feeling can exist whether it is as normal as someone not getting the job they wanted or as dramatic as me losing my friend to suicide. No matter, Will Storr gave me the words to describe exactly how I was feeling. If he was analyzing my life as he analyzed The Godfather, he would say that my Theory of Control was tested and that it didn’t stand a chance.


The same things that push our lives forward are what push good stories forward. We have constant battles within ourselves to try to see in every moment what type of person we will be. Once we have had enough of these battles, we create a pattern as to how we handle problems, and our worldview, character, and self-image are all based on that pattern. Will Storr calls it a Theory of Control and just as it gives fictional characters meaning, it also gives real-life people character. The thrilling element of any story is the question “Who will this person be”. Think about it, our favorite stories from superhero movies to real events all keep us interested based on our desire to get that answer. We love Forrest Gump because no life events change him. He continues to be the same person we met at the beginning of the story; meanwhile, we know that every single one of those life events would have changed us if we were in his shoes. Was The King of Wakanda going to just ignore the truth that Killmonger was living? Absolutely not, we waited the entire movie on the edge of our seats to see the type of King he would be. He showed us that his Theory of Control came from understanding and nobility, and we were curious to see just how much that could be tested. In To Kill a Mockingbird, Atticus Finch had every opportunity to teach his children bigotry which likely would have been much easier for all of them, and we read every page to see if his empathetic nature would win out in the end. And just like all of those characters, we build a Theory of Control, and although we don’t get the storybook ending, we get tested and sometimes our theory loses.


I think I found my Theory of Control when I was on probation in college (Note: At my school when you get in trouble like I did, you go on some type of probation. Mine consisted of 6 months without being able to leave campus or be out of uniform, 5 monthly mentorship meetings, weekly journals, I wasn’t allowed to play basketball, and I had to retake a class. These were probably the most daunting circumstances I had ever been in). My theory stated that inside, there was always a way forward that is better than the initial plan. I found that if I can get a quiet moment of examination with myself, no matter what someone else tells me, I will find a way to regain some element of control over the situation. For example, I was told I had to write a journal a week during my six-month probation. I knew that journaling was good for me so instead of writing only one a week, I wrote a probation journal that would be turned in and a personal journal entry that was purely for my own development. I found control in the idea that inside, I knew this was good for me, and I was able to double down on it. Furthermore, I also felt that this was true with my friends. I felt that if they were willing to talk through whatever it is that they were going through, they would be able to find a way forward as well. My theory was tested, and it seemed to continuously steer me in the right direction. No matter the situation, it seemed that if I sat with myself, I could look at the events only for what they are, and not for what I hoped they would be. From that, I would develop a way forward taking with me only what I needed. Whether that was a coach not having faith in me, or trying to understand why my company isn’t doing well, I always took a quiet moment, realigned my priorities, and managed to move forward in whatever the new world circumstances required.

Then, just as life does once you get comfortable thinking you figured something out, the world steps in to remind you just how little you actually know.


I became a child again. Asking questions about my once fundamental truths to anyone who would listen. Realizing that the wolf howls at the moon because what he needs more than anything is knowledge from that perspective. I feel the same. Diving into scripture and seeking a sage, I feel that only someone or something above or outside of me can provide some sort of relief.


Just as that feeling is incredibly real for me, it also indicates that my Theory of Control is lost and my world is completely shattered. Suddenly, time is not a tool, objects are just cells, and people are only vessels that are wandering on a floating rock with no clue as to why any of this is important. I just wanted to sit and do nothing. I have no tears left, I can’t be angry or sad, I am just numb followed by episodes of incredibly high energy for a few days, then once again, numb. It feels like I am nothing. It feels like I have died.



“A bridge of silver wings stretches from the dead ashes of an unforgiving nightmare

to the jeweled vision of a life started anew.” - Aberjhani, Journey through the Power of the Rainbow: Quotations from a Life Made Out of Poetry


One of my favorite songs is Wasteland, Baby! By Hozier. The song starts like this:


All the fear and the fire of the end of the world

Happens each time a boy falls in love with a girl

Happens great, happens sweet

Happily, I’m unfazed here too


Wasteland, baby

I’m in love, I’m in love with you


A few months after my friend passed away, I heard these lyrics and it brought me to write this piece. It was my reminder that surrender, death, and rebirth are all a natural part of the human experience. Hozier describes falling in love perfectly; it is your Theory of Control being surrendered. He describes it just as Will Storr would describe me trying to pick up the guilt-ridden pieces of losing my friend. It is complete and utter chaos as you wake up there. Although the Wasteland that is created by falling in love is one of hope while the Wasteland I’m in is one of despair, they are both a Wasteland nonetheless. They carry very unique battles and require different types of blueprints all while the naive state of the human mind is the only character present.


In this new Wasteland, he is no longer here in the flesh. His rebirth is in the form of energy. Just as all energy can never be destroyed, his won’t be either. But now it is us, here, trying to find an ember in the ash so we can start from somewhere. The road will be filled dealing with guilt, shame, anger, and everything in between, but the most human thing that anyone can do is rebuild.






References:

Movie: Forrest Gump

Movie: Black Panther

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee

The Science of Storytelling by Will Storr

Journey through the power of the rainbow: Quotations from a Life Made Out of Poverty by Aberjhani

Wasteland, Baby! by Hozier


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