Commiserating or Co-Opting Misery?

 
 
For most of my life, I have been unable to grieve properly.
Any time there was a death; my grief was overshadowed by a couple of things.
 
 
1.  A family member has always cast herself as the lead actress in the three-act-drama of death that is arrangements-funeral-wake.  Instead of being allowed to 'peacefully' select coffins, flowers, food, venues, etc., we were constantly subjected to this person’s complaints that they were being 'ignored', more condolences were paid to others than them, they were grieving harder because...., etc., etc., etc.
The morning of the funerals were always fraught with this persons 'will-I-or-won't-I-go' drama. 
"My nerves can't take it'  
"I'm just too upset"
"No, no, you all go.  I will just stay here. Alone" 
 
I could go on and on about the recriminations if we left and forgot to call and check on this person "selfish", or if we DID call and disturb them "inconsiderate" in their grief,
 
 
2.   My 'cruise-director' personality (and, no, I would never willingly compare my personality to Julie McCoy--I have been called that both lovingly and contemptuously over the course of my life) does not permit me to let anyone at any event be a wallflower, not have a drink, or some food, or a comfortable seat, or be crying without fresh Kleenex.
 
So, yeah, most of my crying happens at night.  In the bathroom or under the duvet (depending on my singleton status), sniveling and honking my way through a half a box of Kleenex.
 
 
This past year, after losing so many family members, friends, and otherwise loved ones (that would be Cambo, who I never met, but loved anyway.), I have started to come out of it.  To be honest and open with my grief, and give people the opportunity to comfort me instead of shrugging it off with a chipper, "I'm fine!" (ok, maybe a little Julie McCoy. *sigh).

Oddly enough, a few things happened that made me wonder if the underside of the duvet is --in fact-- the only place I can grieve in peace. (I will be single forever, so no more bathroom bawling)

I have noticed that people seem to want to one-up my grief and relate to me an experience they had that was similar to, but so much more painful than, mine.  At first I thought they were commiserating....sort of like, "Yes, I have been there, I feel your pain."

Increasingly, especially on social media, it became clear that might have been the initial intent, but that their commiseration, turned into co-miseration....and that these people had appointed themselves co-host of my pity party, and wanted similar - if not greater - attention paid to their grief.

I don't know if it's me being overly sensitive due to my lifelong experiences with the party depicted in paragraph 2, or me being overly sensitive because I am not used to sharing my emotional distress so freely, but soloing on the sobbing seems to be the least competitive way to deal with my sadness.


Unless one of you wants to send me this.....