Another six-week session of bereavement support group is nearly done. As before, I want to assess how I have progressed. My improvement is not as apparent this time. I feel more broken than before.
Today we talked about grief in a way that is different from the stages presented by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross. Instead of a linear progression through stages, it was presented as a multidimensional process that waxes and wanes through time. “How much time?” that’s what I want to know.
I don’t recall at what point I quit counting the day, weeks, or months since my husband’s death. One day I realized that the 21st had slipped past without me falling deeper into my grief as I normally would each month. The thing that I miss about my monthly exacerbation of grief is the predictability of my falling apart. Although I am still able to cross off another month survived, there is no longer any roadmap to the path. This whole idea of a multi-dimensional (emotional, mental, health, spiritual, etc.) process that has ups and downs without any linear path is pretty unsettling.
I am trying to conquer the many dimensions of grief and mourning that manifest as depression, scattered thoughts, despair, anorexia, insomnia, and ill faith. It takes a lot of effort to do this and there are times when I wonder if it is worth it. Then I look at my sons and realize that if I gave up, they might too. I can’t let that happen.
I try to convey myself as a woman who has it pretty together. I take care of my appearance and go about my business as usual (or so it seems). My children arrive at school on time, clean and fed. Our house is better kept than it was before my husband died. The yard is kept up, thanks to the gardener. It would seem that all is well.
However, things aren’t always, as they seem. What people don’t know is that sometimes I barely get out of bed on time to get everyone out the door on schedule. Thankfully, since I never wore much make-up, it doesn’t take a lot of time to get ready. It’s a big enough struggle just to pick out something to wear. Then there are the boys.
My eldest takes care of his own grooming. He’s a teen, so sleep is precious and grooming is mandatory. At least I don’t have to pick his clothes out too. I must only be sure to wake him on time, which is easier said than done. He is going through his own issues moving on without a father. I think that he would like to sleep the days away as well.
The darkness of winter mornings isn’t helping any of us to rise out of bed. The youngest is the worst. He sleeps so soundly and wakes so painfully. I hate to wake him up. If he doesn’t wake up right, the whole morning routine is shot.
Still, whether it starts out good or bad, the day must go on. I must pick up the pieces and rebuild our lives again. Then, one of these days we won’t have to eat our breakfast in the van on the way to school. One of these days, we will feel like a whole family again rather than a broken one.
Juls, I so admire you for acting and appearing brave when you are so hurting inside. The family is a source of warmth, comfort, and support. It can be hurt, beaten even, but it can never ever be broken. {hugs}
How much time? All of it. Three years later, I am still grieving, it’s part of who I am now. But it’s not debilitating, like it was in the first year. A loss like yours (a spouse) or mine (a child) isn’t like the flu, which, as sick as you feel, you eventually get over completely. It’s more like a broken bone – you have a lot of acute pain, a healing process, and are eventually whole again, but it still aches whenever the barometric pressure changes. Everyone’s different, but for me I’ve found that grief continues to wax and wane – there’s a lot more waning, but it’s never really gone. In a way, I don’t want to be done grieving, because I feel like it is my last connection with my stillborn daughter. When I stop grieving, and stop remembering, then she’ll really be gone, and that’s infinitely sadder than the occasional pangs I feel now.
Take care of yourself.
It makes sense to me that grief would be multi-dimensional instead of linear, because all human emotions are multi-dimensional. I don’t believe any of our emotions, or feelings progress in a nice straight line. I have to agree with Mama, in the comment above…it’ll never go away, but it will become managable, seems to me like that the loss and grief that I have experienced have worked that way. I can’t imagine that anyone could handle the loss any better than you are Juls – if you think so, think about what you just said. I’m pretty sure the facade is up for others as well, but the struggle is there. You are working your way through this with grace, and holding your family together by sheer will, and that is a testament to you.
Oh Julie! Hang in there you are awesome and Tom, who watching, I am sure knows you are a superstar. Again, congrats on the Reuters article! I know Tom is smiling there or saying, “what the heck!” I am the writer. Love you!
It’s the holidays and it is dark and that’s two things that contribute to sadness. And then there is real sadness. I’m so glad you can come here and express how you feel and get some support.
Hugs to you and the boys.
You’re a good mother and a strong person. I can’t see you giving up anytime soon. hang tough Juls.