The Ambiguous Loss
The last time I saw my then husband was outside my apartment complex. His SUV rounded the bend, as I asked my parents to remain inside and on standby. This wasn’t the first time he was in an emotionally charged state. It was, however, the first time I would be experiencing it in this capacity in person. I lost track of how many times he called my phone on his way over; call after call remaining unanswered, as I knew speaking in this state never ended in clarity and closure. As his car was pulling in, I saw the shadow of my sweet girl sitting in the backseat. This would also be the last time I saw her, with a darkly tinted window between us. The next several moments are hazy. I remember his window going down. I remember him saying he knew I called an attorney. I remember him asking if I wanted a divorce. I remember pulling on the locked back door handle, hard, desperate to get to my girl. I remember the front doors of my apartment complex opening as my dad heard my voice escalate. I remember walking back to my building and realizing he was screening my phone calls. I remember feeling an intense rush of anxiety, followed shortly thereafter by the sluggish state of shock, and eventually overwhelming sadness.
This would be our goodbye.
Dear partner. Not all stories end like this one. And if you find today’s post relatable or validating in any capacity, I feel your pain in my bones. Today’s post is to shed light on stories that do end in loss. And some of us partners may experience what is known as ambiguous loss.
Ambiguous loss may be defined as a loss without closure or clear understanding. There may never be a formal goodbye, or opportunity for an intentional last conversation. An apology may never come. There may never be a true understanding of their impact, their choices, the consequences of those choices, experienced in the fullest capacity. Because the truth, dear partner, is it’s nearly impossible to have such experiences with someone who is not grounded in reality. It is not possible with someone who is in radical denial, and not living in truth. And one of our toughest battles, among the many we have already fought and will continue to fight, is our acceptance of ambiguous loss.
Where does one begin to process this kind of loss?
How does one close the loop on a loss that otherwise continues on repeat, with no readily available opportunity for repair?
Much like breaking a trauma bond or the un-gaslighting process, it begins with the support of our therapy team, and unconditional love from our trusted inner circle. I explored writing an undelivered letter to my then husband, sharing what I would have said in our final moments. Some therapists guide partners through the “empty chair technique,” when a chair is placed in the therapeutic setting and the partner uses the words they never had the chance to say, while imagining the person is present. Ultimately, dear partner, what helped me truly process and eventually overcome my ambiguous loss, was the daily reminder of all that I do have, and consistently choosing to not be defined by what I had lost.
Instead of waiting for a day, a conversation, a moment that may never come, we can choose to see the goodness that is alive and well among us. I feel it when the orange and purple sun rays traverse early morning clouds on my drive in to work. I feel it when a stranger smiles and says, “How is your day?” I feel it when my favorite worship song (Gratitude, by Brandon Lake) covers me like a cozy blanket. The good that radiates among me, can and will, penetrate the gaping holes of my ambiguous loss.
Choosing in the losing, is a continued commitment to our healing. It may not be readily available to you at first; the ability to see goodness drifting among the loss. But eventually, you may begin to feel that shift.
Eventually, our gain may just become far greater than our deepest loss.
