Usually I write about where I am currently on this journey, but this week I want to reflect a little bit on where I was and how it felt. Why? Well, I know when I first started on this path, I felt so alone. The feelings and emotions were so overwhelming. And because I was the first person in both our families and amongst my close friends to lose a spouse, I didn’t really have anyone to turn to and ask if all these feelings were normal? (As if anything in my life would ever be “normal” again.)
Just a few months after Bruce died, I was struggling to find someone… anyone… who could understand… and wrote the following…
“I feel like I am going crazy. My emotions have been on hyper mode since this started. If I am sad, it is extreme. If I am happy, it is extreme. If I am angry, it is extreme. No matter the emotion, it is to the extreme. It seems like the only way to have any control at all is to shut them down completely. I hate it. Can anyone tell me if this is a normal part of grieving?”
Many people responded that while they hadn’t been there, they thought it was normal… A few told me to pray… Others said they were praying for me… Some told me to seek counseling, while others used words and phrases they had heard elsewhere were meant to bring comfort. In other words, they were all trying to be supportive, but no one really had an answer.
So, I set out to find some answers. I can remember reading books, blogs, articles – anything I could get my hands on that was written by other widows and widowers. In those, I learned what I was experiencing was very normal. I wasn’t alone, and I wasn’t going crazy.
I read about women who shaved their heads, packed a bag, and went on a cross-country hike in an attempt to outrun their grief. I read about men and women who fought suicidal thoughts, and others who immediately moved out of their homes just to get away from the memories. I read about many who lost their faith and others who dove in deeper.
So many people I read about struggled to control their emotions and talked about the outbursts… And others who tried to stuff all the pain deep down inside and shared that they couldn’t connect with anyone anymore… So many talked about looking at life going on around them, like an observer looking in, unable to even feel human anymore.
All of this probably sounds really dark, but it actually brought me comfort… It was a relief to know that I wasn’t crazy… All of my feelings were “normal” for someone grieving. My struggle to control my emotions, my struggle with my faith and being “left behind,” my struggle with relationships… All of it… It was such a comfort to know I wasn’t alone… and I wasn’t crazy.
I remember when I first started writing this blog, someone said told me that no one wanted to hear about my pain, how hard grief was, or how I felt. However, I thought it then, and I think it now – she was wrong… There will always be someone who needs to hear… I guess that’s why I am writing this today… Because if even one person reads this and can connect with the loss of stability that comes with grief, then I hope they will also find comfort in knowing that they aren’t alone.
You have many sisters and brothers who have gone before you and remember…
There is no judgement in what you are feeling… We remember. There is only empathy and compassion for where you are… And where you must still travel.
And while it may not seem possible, (at least, I didn’t think it was), if you are patient with yourself, the day will come (eventually), when you can manage this new “normal” that life has thrown your way. True, there will always be a hole… an emptiness in your heart and soul, but it won’t always control every thought and emotion… And until the time comes when you realize you are able to truly live your life again, know that we are here… We care… And we understand…
Death changes everything…
For a while that is all I can think about.
Time changes nothing…
On its own.
This is a journey
That will not end,
But I can learn how to direct my path.
If I do not pay attention to each individual step,
If I look too far ahead,
If I get tired and stop,
If I look backward too long,
I will become lost and scared.
I did not choose this journey.
I can’t even say that I like this journey.
But I would rather choose my path now,
Than try to find my way later
Because I gave up what little choice was mine
And became lost.
It is okay to stop and rest or cry when I am weary,
As long as I do not lose track of where I am.
It is okay to peer behind me to see where I was,
As long as I remember to look forward as I move.
It is even okay to look at what is ahead,
As long as I am doing so as preparation, but remain focused on where I am.
Death has changed everything,
And I must learn how to adjust.
Time changes nothing
On its own – that is my job now.
This is a journey – it is mine;
I must own it to survive it.
~ Linda, September 2013
What about you? Where are you on your journey? Do you remember that initial shock and all the overwhelming feelings of loss? Are you in that initial state of loss? Do you need someone to validate your feelings and give you some support? If so, you’re not alone… We all know this journey is hard, but it is even harder to bear alone. I believe we are in this together. None of us are alone, because we have each other. Please feel free to reach out and share your story or thoughts. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note. *Who knows? Your story may the answer for someone else.
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