Now with messages of hope, let's talk of Grief & Survival
Surviving Grief
What do those early days of Grief feel like?
Finding your Rock, Safe Harbor
Grief. Specifically the human experience of surviving deep trauma and Grief. Analogous to swimming, not drowning.
Walk with me through this next section of the site. Now that I have wrapped you in messages of Hope.
Finding your Rock, Safe Harbor
What do those early days of Grief feel like?
Finding your Rock, Safe Harbor
For most people plunging into deep and sudden Grief, it can feel like there is an ocean to swim before finding solid rock to cling to. If you have suffered loss, you know of what I speak. That rock is a refuge, a safe harbor to take respite. That rock however is not meant as a permanent place to avoid the storms of Grief. For grieve we must, to honor our loss. But yes, take safe harbor when the soul cries it's too much, I need rest.
What do those early days of Grief feel like?
What do those early days of Grief feel like?
What do those early days of Grief feel like?
My journey of surviving started when my husband, my Love, suddenly died. Ripping my world apart. Before, there was love, comfort and the rhythm of a relationship. Suddenly, after his death, there was none. My world felt like a black abyss. I was acutely attuned to my one-ness, a solitary person standing on this planet, instantly off balance.
That first hour, day, week, month...
Surviving
TRAUMA.
LOSS.
And then.....that journey of surviving or drowning begins.
That first hour, that first day, that first week, that first month. The soul and mind struggle to process.
Grief enters, permeates, pervades, seizes.
I discovered my beloved soon after his death. And by grace or through shock, my spirit left and hovered. Observing, confused. That first day I only saw characters in some tragic play. Play acting.
I felt detached, other-worldly and, strangely, not reacting the way society norms dictate. I remember thinking, as my mind raced in millions of directions, how am I supposed to act? Odd, the directions the mind travels when confronted with horrific and unfamiliar contexts. In tandem, the frontal lobe part of my brain, took control with its higher level cognitive abilities, and demanded of me "call 911", "call Steve", "unlock front door" "put dog in the kennel". Robotic progression of steps.
Yet, other parts of my brain, trying to absorb the scene, awoke, started negotiating with the universe.
"NO!" I screamed. "NO!" I screamed louder. Sobbing.
NO, you will not do this, you will not take him. I forbid you.
.....As if the desperate pleading screaming from my guts could put things right.
The Ebb and Flow of Surviving
I so deeply deeply miss my beloved, my body caves in on itself.
A sensation of being compressed, except the force is emanating from the inside out. And my soul, unable to bear the force, seeps out and escapes to hover, seeking respite. Then, when ready, tentatively settles back in my heart and soldiers forward.
And so, in the early days, early weeks, my spirit ebbs and flows...
..my soul deciding to go somewhere else. Yet leaves enough of itself to give the appearance of life, of functioning. So everyone's fooled.
But I'm not fooled. However, I have enough sense to know I need to carry out a resemblance of tasks - buy some groceries, open the mail, feed the dog, answer the phone, nod and smile.
I sense Grief's ebbs and flows...
...and feel I am merely an observer in a life. I don't want to be me anymore. It's horrific, it's exhausting - this Grief, this constant awareness of loss. I don't mean to imply my thoughts as suicidal, rather, thoughts of escape, as a negotiator with the Giver of Life to relieve me of this pain. I am so worn down as one who has been shortened, diminished, shrunken.
I so deeply deeply miss my friend.
Grief and loss ebb and flow with the days. Triggers threaten to overtake my spirit - especially on days I'm particularly exhausted - triggers such as being around happy couples holding hands, crossing into meaningful holidays, birthdays, stumbling across a particular photo, passing a driver in the exact truck my husband used to drive, finding an old loving Valentine card.
There are also innocuous moments where none of the triggers are present, and inexplicably, there Grief is, like a wave - my familiar companion. And the guttural sobbing starts, as I dive into my abyss.
And so the Grief ebbs and flows.
and after a few months,.. "that question"...
Are you OK now? (or.. are you better?)
What Surviving looks like after one year. Two years...
How am I doing now you wonder? Have I moved on, am I fully functioning, doing OK? Valid questions for sure. In short, at the one year mark, I can say I’ve survived. I’ve grown in inner strength, re-entered the work force (feeling productive, busy – a blessing). But at a deeper level, my situation is very difficult to describe. Yes, I am here, I am functioning, I am “leaning into to life”.
How do I possibly describe my existence to convey a sense of what it’s like - allow bystanders to vicariously, for a moment, dip a toe into my world, emotions, routines, inner mind? In short, there are good days and bad. There is an ebb and flow. A will to surge forward, a pull to retreat. I would like to think the good days are gradually outnumbering the bad. I have learned what my triggers are – pre-cursors to all-out, gut-wrenching sobbing; to the reliving of the trauma.
The sound of an ambulance siren, off in the distance. Is it coming closer? Is the ambulance coming here? As I’m violently transported back to that tragic day, where my heart broke, and my soul seeped out of my body. Back to that day of horror, disbelief, confusion, shock. But, I am safe, this subsequent year of my life journey. And so, I work through my breathing, I work through the mind – exercises my counsellor gave me.
Breathe. Redirect thoughts. Calm.
I know my beloved is not here, is not coming home. The ambulance is not for this house, not this day.
I realize I am safe, here in my home, and that ambulance siren is for someone else. Some other poor soul, at a tragic milestone in his or her life journey.
I can relax. And then, I can send a prayer out to the universe that those souls will be helped, be ok, find strength, find peace.
I set up my routines to try to mitigate triggers. Most times I succeed. Other times, due to “life” I cannot – a week with stressful work situations, layered on top of an old acquaintance calling to say “oh my God I didn’t know he died”, layered on top of a newly discovered leak in the roof, a flat tire. And “boom” I hit the wall.
In a tired weakened state, you can lose your tough chick (or tough guy) persona and regress into deep grief. Out comes the comfort food and drink. Because the grief is always there but pushed below the surface with a big band-aide called “life routine”. Pushed below the surface due to efforts of angels in the form of friends and family support. But this big band-aide is always threatening to be ripped back if sloppy on self-care or loss of routines. Why? Because the love and the pining of a beloved doesn’t magically stop. There’s glimmers of hope that he or she walks through the door, you fall into each other’s arms and sob in relief. All is forgotten. All is forgiven.
Below the surface there is a realization that this leaning into life, (working, cleaning house, paying bills, arranging car maintenance, entertaining friends, sending birthday cards, exercising) ….is putting on a show. Fooling yourself. Fooling others. You fall into bed at night exhausted – because putting on a show each day is exhausting.
But, here is the hope, as promised. As each month passes, and then each year passes, there is a sense of accomplishment, a survival milestone. Those are the seeds of hope.
And those seeds take root, and then grow.
I leave you with some words of wisdom from a book that impacted my life Tuesdays with Morrie, by Mitch Albom (see my references section at end of site). These words can feel harsh at first, and may not be right for those early months of grieving, but as time ventures forward, and life in our world continues, there is wisdom in the messaging. The timeframe for the impact of these words will be different for each person and each unique context.
“Don’t let go too soon, but don’t hold on too long.”
Places and Pain
Surviving Your Grief Zones....
Don’t give power and meaning to places and environments (because of your horrific loss) which will result in shrinking your world and result in applying a false mystic symbolism. In other words, don’t imagine and create fear zones or grief zones. Example – “oh, I can never go to that (e.g. restaurant, park, store ….. ) because that’s where I used to go with my beloved, so it’s too painful/ too many memories”. See? Your world shrinks as a result.
Instead, dive in and exorcize those places and environments early in your grief journey. Yes, you’ll cry. Cry hard. And maybe cry for half a day. But then you will recover. You will have taken your power back from that place /environment. So, you are the one making the rules, and saying to the universe “I’m still alive and breathing, so dam it anyways, I’m going to go and enjoy that…. (fill in the blanks) e.g. coffee shop, island resort, restaurant, antique store, swimming pool, park, etc.).
Why is this topic important? You could just avoid painful places and environments. And no one should judge you for that. It may simply be something that you just can’t face. Well (1) you are stronger than you think; (2) when you believe you can’t face something, but you throw yourself in anyways - a part of you says “hey, I did it, wow”, “it was horrible but I’m so proud of myself”. Think about this process as “taking back your world” and learning new skills. You will need to purposely reimagine places and environments, and rebirth these into new memories (new paradigms). You will be stepping into the next phase of your life by laying new foundations.
I hear you saying “but it’s so hard!”. Yes, it’s friggin hard. “Hard” doesn’t cut it - we need better descriptive words. But use this time in your life journey to say, “this is when I put on my adult pants, my superman(woman) cape, and I chose to step into the challenges fully.”
And wow, you really learn what you’re capable of – and that feels beyond amazing.
So purposefully go forward and step into those coffee shops, hiking trails, stores, parks, restaurants, etc. - where you and your beloved went. And fully immerse yourself in the hurt. Dive in. Then come out the other side, and give yourself a hug. Congratulate yourself. In a pre-emptive message, ...let me say, I am so very proud of you- .. you have re-expanded, re-imagined your world, and you have started on the journey for the next phase of your life.
Letter to a Friend
Helping others to survive,.....
In the early days of my Grief journey, I found solace in an on-line widows' group. One fellow member in particular was crumbling from losing his wife to cancer. As we all shared our stories, Ross (not his real name) unloaded, unabashed, his raw, crippling pain. He was drowning, not surviving. Yet, he reached out to me, seeking to find some hope. My message back to Ross, while far from perfect, was received as a life line and comfort.
Ross -
You have said, that I seem to sound grounded online, but my grief has been incredibly painful. It’s both an emotional pain and a full-body physical pain. I can’t tell you how to make it better. I can only share my path, what worked for me. You will explore your path/ what works for you. I remember hearing people say the cliché “it gets better with time”– and I hated hearing that. It actually made me angry. But at my 8 month mark, I can feel a gradual fading of the black abyss, a more intermittent pain, a lessoning of the pit-feelings.
My strategies have mirrored my personality – full-on throw myself into the grief experience & problem solve my way through. I didn’t lie in bed or isolate myself. I was afraid I would never get up; or I may kill myself to be with my husband (which I wanted to). For other people – a time of isolation and staying in bed – is what they need to do. I found a very talented counsellor who I’ve seen regularly – who challenges my perceptions and reinforces my self-care strategies. I have avoided numbing myself with medication. And I exercise – hard. Swimming, running, weight-training, – to distract, to be with people, to stay healthy, give resilience a chance. Within the first year of losing a spouse, some research states that over 60 percent of widows will die – heart attacks, strokes, suicide (depends on the literature you review). So self-care and a good support network is crucial.
I found reading some self-help books very helpful – but that might not be your thing. You, however, may find other similar resources helpful.
Grief is messy. There’s no neat and tidy steps all lined up in chronological order. And it’s poorly understood by those who have not lost a spouse. If it sounds like I have it figured out – I don’t. There’s been nights where I’ve slipped and had some beers with toast for dinner. But the key is to talk to someone, make the next day a new start, put one foot in front of the other.
Hope this helps. Your life is precious, worth embracing. You will slowly find healing, and you will slowly start to let in the light, and let in joy.
EB