This question has been going around and around in my head for a long time now. I’ve needed to write about it but oh…..what a contentious topic! I could just imagine how some might react:
“Are you saying your grief is worse than mine?”
“How can you ‘compare griefs’ – are you suggesting a hierarchy?“
“Don’t you dare judge my feelings when you don’t know me!“
Oh dear. [shudders] My fear of this reaction is why I haven’t broached the subject in the past. I have a strong self-protection instinct… but I also have a need to explore and understand what is going around in my head AND maybe what might help others to understand what’s going on for them too.
Perhaps I should continue to shy away from the topic, but our society doesn’t ‘do death’ very well at all, and I believe it should be something we talk about openly.
So here goes….. [braces herself]…..
Imagine this. You’re juggling a dozen or more brightly coloured balls, keeping them carefully spaced apart and all in the air at the same time. It’s not easy but you are well practiced and so your hands grab each ball at exactly the right time to grasp it, and flick it on it’s way before the next one comes around.
And then…. they all fall to the ground at exactly the same time. Crash!!!
What if this was your life, and all the balls are the various aspects of your life that you keep in motion. Confidently and with the expectation of somebody who has managed their own life for a long time, you know what is going to happen next.
And then your partner/soul-mate/love of your life….dies. Crash!!!
Grief…along with anxiety, stress and depression….is just plain exhausting. It consumes every single aspect of every single day with no reprieve in sight. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to take even a short break? A mini-holiday? I was about 6 weeks into my grief journey when I discovered that I could do just that, so I thought I’d share my experience. It began one day when I went outside to put something into the bin….
Clocks stopping…and going backwards. Music starting up in the middle of the night and things inexplicably (and catastrophically) breaking. It started within hours of receiving the devastating news that my husband Norbert had been killed in a glider crash and over the subsequent couple of weeks it was so obvious that we weren’t exactly wondering if it was a coincidence, but rather…what would happen next!
The clouds were grey and hanging low in the sky when I got into my car and drove away from my home. The heavy skies were threatening rain, and the weather matched my mood as I took a deep breath, and fought to regain the tight control I had had on my emotions and well-being for some time. But…it felt like things were going off the rails.
Denial…anger….depression….bargaining…acceptance. That’s the infamous 5 stages of grief. Since my husband died I’ve been on my own grief journey. So where am I up to? Obviously past denial, but have I reached acceptance yet? Is there anything after acceptance or is that the end of the road? Well I’m going to bust this whole thing apart and hopefully everyone will stop talking about it to grieving people. I mean…seriously…..we have enough to deal with.