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It still shocks me how totally ignorant
I was about the grieving process before having to go through it myself. I've
been at this for ten months, as of today, and I still don't really understand
it. All I know is one minute I can be laughing at a joke; or smiling at
strangers as I walk down the street; or excitedly making plans for a holiday;
or wrestling and giggling with my nephews ... and the next minute I can hardly
breathe from the pain of missing him.
I honestly can't remember the last day I
didn't cry. Sometimes it's only for two minutes, other days it takes two hours
before I can pull myself together. I’m having
a lot of those days again lately, which is so exhausting.
I also realized this week I’ve been pretending to be doing better than I actually am, even with really close
friends, because I'm aware that if I let show how much I'm constantly hurting, people may grow weary of hearing about it. I mean, I'm so bored of my grief, of course I expect everyone else is too. Friends reassure me that they’re
not, and I should continue to share and seek support. And I do, particularly on the really tough
days. But on some level, every day is a
difficult day and despite their best intentions, I know that if I constantly
moaned to my friends about how sad I am and how much I miss my husband, the
running commentary would drive them crazy.
Last weekend I helped pull off of a
surprise 35th birthday party for one of my closest friends and also co-hosted
another dear friend’s baby shower. Both
took a huge emotional toll on me. The surprise party was full of couples who,
for some reason, kept bloody talking about their engagements and weddings (which lead to me having a private breakdown in the kitchen mid-party), while the baby shower was,
not-surprisingly, also very confronting.
By the end of the weekend the emotional
hang-over was in full swing and I have struggled to get back on top all
week. Even though I chose to be there, to support people who have been so supportive of me, I think I pushed myself a bit too hard. I’m finding it so difficult to strike that
healthy balance between self-care and continuing to participate with life.
My friends tell me to be open with my
emotions and never to feel like I have to be brave in front of them, but can
you imagine if I spent both events ‘sharing’ how much I was struggling? What a party-pooper! Sometimes I’m just forced to keep the ‘I’m
ok’ face on because, as wonderful as my friends are, there are moments where I
need to protect them from the pain I’m feeling.
At ten months I think people may have
started to expect me to be doing ‘ok’ more days that not. Even worse, I’m putting that expectation onto
myself, then taking it really badly when I ‘fail’. I know it hurts them to see me in pain and
they miss the ‘old Bec’ but I also know they understand and accept my grief and
would do anything to try and help me get through this. No one is putting pressure on me – I’m
putting pressure on myself, but I have to accept there are always going to be moments where I’m just going to have to put that brave face back on.
So this week I’m going back to
basics. I’m reminded myself that this
pain will never fully go away, I'll just get better at carrying it. I need to
tune in to my instincts more and identify when I need to rest and when I can
push out of my comfort zone. And I’m
going to stop putting so much pressure on myself to understand my grief and
conquer it. After all, how can I expect
people around me not to question why I'm not 'coping better' yet if I can't let go
of that expectation myself.
Very well said. I recognize the feelings you shared. Ten months was a tough milestone for me. I understand putting on the brave face to spare others. Thank you for sharing.
ReplyDeleteThank you, it always helps to know I'm not the only one!
DeleteThe love of my life will be gone three years on June 21st. I am still in pain; I still cry. I've come to accept that this pain is now part of me and will never go away. I read recently that when we find the love of our lives, we become as one. When that person dies, we are well and truly half a person; half of a whole. Here I am, half of a whole. I am in love with a dead man and I will love him forever. There is no getting over that; not ever. No amount of counseling will bring my husband back to me.
ReplyDeleteThat makes sense to me - Dan was my other half and I feel less-than-whole without him. I can't imagine ever not being in love with him. I'm so sorry for your loss.
DeleteRebecca, I am sorry for your loss as well. I should have mentioned that before. I'm sorry. Widow's Village has been a huge help for me. Knowing that my feelings and emotions are normal has helped tremendously. Losing couple friends hurt so much until I read that others on WV experienced the same situation. Finding out that year two can be worse than the first year validated all that I went through during the second year. I am so grateful to have found a home on WV where there are so many kindred spirits to help us make it through this journey.
ReplyDeleteI'm so glad you've found support in the Widow's Village community, I hate to think where I'd be without my widow friends! They make me feel 'normal' and understood.
DeleteI know what you mean about putting on a brave front; the feeling that our friends are expecting us to be ok more. But those who truly love us will accept us however we are feeling. I was surprised some of the people I thought would be there for me weren't; others I was surprised to see kept coming around and kept calling. I've found for me the grief will never go away, I'm just trying to learn to live with it. Some days are easier than other. Peace to you.
ReplyDeleteThanks Stephanie, I have also been surprised to receive support from some people I wasn't expecting it from, which was so heart-warming. I know my true friends love me and accept my grief, yet I can't help feel a sense of obligation to manage it and protect them from it when it's just not appropriate for me to burden them with it (like at the baby shower, or on other events where the focus isn't on me or I'd be ruining other's chance to have fun - like a recent group holiday). It can be such a heavy burden sometimes.
DeleteYou wrote so eloquently exactly what I would have said. My husband Ron died 7 months ago and everything you expressed is such shared feelings. I have joined a grief group and that helps but the reality that the pain does not go away has been hard to deal with. Lots of activity this holiday weekend but my inside are just so sad
ReplyDeleteThank you so much Sarah, I really appreciate your comment. I am sorry for your loss, I remember the seven month mark, it felt like so little time had passed but that it 'sounded' like a longer time than it actually was. I'm glad to hear you have joined a grief group. Take care of yourself x
Deleteoh, Rebecca, I am so very sorry for what you are going through. I read your whole blog from the beginning, and I am so very sorry for the loss of your Dan. I am only 1 yr and 2 wks out from when my husband died in his sleep while we both were in a very robust remission from cancer. I, too, feel very guarded, even with loving, close friends and family because I understand their feelings of helplessness to assuage my grief. very few people, other than those who walk on our path, would ever understand the devastating loneliness we can feel in a room crowded with people we love. it's not natural, it's insane, and it makes no sense, and it never will. the challenge of going on to try to re-shape our lives, while we live with paralyzing grief alongside of that tremendous effort is unspeakably difficult. I try to keep remembering there will be good days, that it won't always feel so raw, that grief is the only guide available to takes us where we need to be to cry and sob and re-visit just how painful and surreal life feels. I try to use the little snippets (and they are little) of the in-between times to do something to turn outside of myself; but then I always revert to the main thing - I love Hugh so much, I am totally in love with a dead man, and it seems as time passes that love becomes even stronger. I completely understand about how you feel - both the fake facing, and the lose of the half of you left behind. I am so grateful we all have one another to give/receive comfort and validation. thank you for this post. much love, Karen xoxo
ReplyDeleteYou can't run from grief or hide it. If you try, it will come out in other ways. You are "only" at 10 months, that is still really early. If you get the feeling from others they are tired of it, distance yourself from those friends! My son died nearly 4 years ago and I still grieve nearly every day. Not as hard, not weeping and in pain, but still needing understanding and grace from those around me.
ReplyDeleteOh Karen, thank you for your lovely message. I'm so glad to hear my writing may have brought you some comfort. As much as it's sad to hear of so many people in the same situation, it certainly does help knowing we're not alone. I'm so sorry for the loss of your Hugh xo
ReplyDeleteOh, I've been there so many times. The Back To Basics phase. It's taking a step out there and then backtracking to regroup and rest. Everything is so damn hard early on. Your whole being needs so much rest and recharging. It is so incredibly wrenching to see others launching their lives when yours has just burned and crumbled to the ground.
ReplyDeleteThis touched me so much, for me it is like looking in a mirror reading this. I am coming up to six months without my darling fiancée and the harder I pretend to be normal the less I can actually see my friends and family. I know I am shutting them out but sometimes it is too hard to pretend and I just don't want them to feel helpless to my pain. I sometimes feel I am disappearing into the grief.
ReplyDeleteWe had just sent our wedding invited out when unexpectly my love died, all we had planned the wedding, honeymoon, our babies we were trying for and our life that we had talked of I feel like I am also grieving for the life we were meant to have. I am organising a baby shower and it is so painful, I am so jealous of everyone's lives. Sometimes I can spend hours in my own head living the life we were planning I just can't let go.