Monday, February 7, 2011

This One's for You: Musical Monday

Before Phil died, I was that friend. The one you called when you were mad at your husband and needed to tell someone what he did who wouldn't hold it against him later. I was the person who could be counted on to answer the phone at odd hours; watch your kids if you needed a break; or the one person who would remind you of your new years resolution in March. I learned early in life how to be a friend, and worked hard to be a person that earned the title. Then death stepped into my life.

As the waves of grief washed over me, I lost my ability to think outside the box...my box. The world I was living in became so dark that I wandered around my life bumping into walls that I couldn't see. Each time I hit something in the inky blackness I became more disoriented. Grief made my head spin and my eyes blind to anything but my own concerns. More than a few less than appealing traits became the norm when dealing with other people: impatience, intolerance, exasperation, bitterness, and I am sure there are a few others I am forgetting. When listening to another person's woes I had to bite my tongue to keep from spewing the litany of responses that flew into my brain..."Ha! It could be worse, trust me." "At least he is alive for you to hate." "I am sure that losing your job was very difficult." "The fridge broke again, how awful." " Tell me again, what exactly are you complaining about?" I couldn't hear another person speak about themselves without comparing their troubles to mine. And in my mind, death trumped all.

I read somewhere that grief is a selfish state. When I first saw those words I was offended. Obviously the person who wrote them wasn't actively grieving! Clearly no one would make that kind of judgement if they were living the nightmare that begins the minute after a loved one dies. But once I got past the negative connotation, I realized that I needed to be selfish in order to survive Phil's loss. I needed to come first. In order to find my way through the dark maze, I required every available reserve. My needs could not be pushed aside in order to put others first because suddenly the things I needed were so basic that my survival depended on them being met. Selfish was okay, even necessary, for a time.

Eventually I missed the friend I used to be. As time passed my needs became less pressing and no longer required my undivided attention. Slowly I could see that trouble is trouble, and you don't know the trouble of death until you live it, period. As time passed and bitterness started to wane I trained myself to hear the emotion in other's voices and to listen with my heart instead of my head. The futility of comparison became clear and my natural ability to care returned with a new twist. Having known the deep sadness of grief I am grateful for each and every problem that doesn't take me, or someone I care about, there.

Five years ago this song would have immediately reminded me of all that I have lost. Today it reminds me of all that I still have to give. I needed my selfish stage in order to reach my shining stage. This song speaks to the power of peer based grief support. We are the light for each other, even as we find the way through our own darkness.

10 comments:

  1. Perfect post!!!! So many times over the last 11 months I have wanted to scream at people for their petty complaining. I felt exceptionally selfish for not being able to see outside of my "box". Thank you for giving me permission to be selfish for awhile because it does translate to survival.

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  2. I am slowly beginning to realize that I need to be selfish. It is very hard for me to admit. I have always been a grin and bear it, put others first type and doing that while greiving is making me worse I think.

    The complaining is hard, but I find listening to my friends who are happy and excited about their life (have several engaged friends) is worse. It just causes me so much pain that it puts me in a very dark place. I want to celebrate with them, as they did when Chris and I got engaged and married, but I don't know that I can. It takes me to a very dark place and I am not sure I can survive it.

    Is it ok to avoid friends as a way of self-preservation? Very good wonderful friends who have done so much for me since Chris's death?

    I don't know.

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  3. You have said it perfectly here.

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  4. Survival - yes it is all about survival. I had a friend come to me about a week after the funeral to tell me that she was going to leave her husband - it was just unbearable to stay with him. She actually told me she wished we could switch places. I remember thinking "did you really just wish him dead?". I don't think she meant it, but at the time it was devastating to me and I was angry - too angry for words. Today, 15 months later I can see that she was so caught up in her own stuff that she forgot about my stuff. That's ok, it was up to me to protect myself and I did it by withdrawing from her and her problems. Self preservation. Survival. That's what it's all about.

    Great post. thanks.

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  5. Thank you..that's all I can write through my tears right now......

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  6. Beautiful post. So true. I was selfish and sometimes I revert...to survive a moment again...thank you for writing this.

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  7. Great post. I too have never put myself first, except for this time, it has been for true survival. There are so many days that I feel like I'm barely hanging on and if I don't think of myself right now, no one else will. I still can't handle friend/family that complain about the minor things I just tune them out.

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  8. I didn't realize that I was doing this until I read this. I know that when my friends complain to me about their husbands I can't believe they are actually venting to me. I know that I have pulled away some from the community, even though I am so grateful for them and all they have done for me and our children. I just didn't realize that I was doing it as a form of survival, but it makes sense. I know that right now I can't be that friend who will babysit all the time or really be there as a sounding board. I see the changes in myself, I don't like feeling selfish or pulling away when I was always very social, but I can't help it. I do miss my friendships that exsisted before this and the simplicity of ignorant bliss. But more than that, I miss my husband, so right now I need to be selfish so I can find my footing on this new ground.

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  9. I too am grateful for all the little problems that don't take me or someone I care about THERE, as you've written. Well-said. I'm sure the compassion you've gained must make you a fabulous friend to so many.

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  10. Wow Michele this was really good for me to read.. I was feeling guilty today when I just walked away from work.. saying I had enough social interaction and being brave.. I just wanted to go home and have a good cry.. I also had those same thoughts of when people complain.. did you wake up today, did you poop today.. then count it a blessing. but being reading that being selfish is OK as I mourn.. was good to read

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