What People Think

A family friend recently asked my sister how I was doing, and then seemed surprised when she replied that I'm still very sad a lot of the time and cry often. It got me thinking, if I don't regularly remind the world that I'm missing Dan and still grieving him, will they assume I've 'finished' or was past that 'phase'?

In the months after his death I spoke about my grief without inhibition and posted about it regularly on social media.  When I was having a particularly bad day, I used Facebook to express myself and purge the painful thoughts from my head.  It was a release and also helped me feel connected to my community and receive support when I couldn't bring myself to actually call someone or go out into the world in person.

If I was having a good day, I would post a happy or positive thought but still connect it to Dan - either because I wished he was there to share it with me; or to acknowledge that even in the good times he was still very much a part of me; or because the particular thing I was grateful for was due to him coming in to my life and giving me blessings that were going to stay with me forever.

I think it gave people insight into how complicated the bereavement process is and some of the particular challenges I was facing, which in turn, helped them to work out how to best support me.

However some time in the past few months the grief posts became less frequent. They haven't stopped altogether, I still share the highs and lows and talk about Dan constantly, but I probably don't broadcast the lows as often.

Maybe this is because I'm getting better at coping with the pain and processing it internally rather than feeling that need to shout it out to the world every time a wave hits?

Maybe I'm becoming more private with my grief, more aware of how people may interpret it, more self-conscious about being so raw and vulnerable.

Maybe there are less lows now?  That one is more difficult to identify.  I honestly find it hard to define when the tough times build and ease because when I'm deep in the loss, I forget there has ever been anything else other than the total mental and physical agony of missing my husband.

Whatever it may be, I don't like the thought that by containing my grief or limiting my public declarations of sadness, I'm giving people the notion that I am 'moving forward' and not grieving as much anymore.

I would love to get to the point where it no longer has a dominating presence but I still don't fully understand what that means or looks like.  I think sometimes I can feel so worried about people's expectations (or my own expectations) that I don't want to raise them to the point where I can fail to meet them.

But at the same time, it doesn't feel right to keep announcing that I'm missing Dan, just to keep other's informed of my state of mind, like some kind of public service announcement.  When people tell me that they have learnt a lot from how much I share and appreciate my openness, that's a nice thought.  It means my experience is helping others and it's good to think there's some kind of positive to this.

However, it's not my job to educate and I have to be careful not to take on that responsibility.  So I chose to let go of that sense of obligation and my fear of being judged and just be.  If I want to talk about how I'm feeling, I will.  If I want to keep that private, I will.

This is a long road as I integrate Dan's death into the new life I'm rebuilding for myself.  I have enough to worry about, so I'm working on not adding 'what other people think of my grieving process' to that list.

Back to basics

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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 35^th 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.