My Relentless Sorrow

My Relentless Sorrow

How do I describe this loss I have suffered?  How do I describe this heartache that has devoured my every thought?  How do I describe these emotions that hang over my head dictating my every move?  How do I describe what it feels like to sit in my corner unable to move due to this all too consuming sorrow that has completely taken control of my life?  And how do I describe this feeling of being bound so tight by the invisible strings of my sadness?  There are many days I feel as though I am alone and suffocating, and no matter what I do I just cannot get enough air to fill these lungs.  I wish I had all this strength...you know, this strength that everyone around me seems to think I have.  Oh my, the things I could accomplish with this strength everyone see in me.

How people have come to a conclusion I am a strong woman is beyond me.  Would a strong woman such as myself…be able to move forward even in the death of her child?  I wonder how many countless women of strength have endured this very pain.  I wonder how many of them have completely shut down, as I have.  If only they knew…how strong do you suppose everyone would think I was if they knew how many hours I spend in a day sitting in my corner unable to move, unable to function, unable to do the things in life I have always enjoyed.  One of which was getting up early…4:30 am.  This was my usual time to get up in the mornings, rain or shine, weekday or weekend didn’t matter I have always gotten out of bed this early.  I think I initially started getting up early because it would be my time alone to think and enjoy a cup of coffee…you know, before my family got up in the morning.  I am a very sequential person, some might say I have a little OCD going on but who knows.   

Everything I have done in life has been on a schedule, everything.  I always wake between 4:00-4:15 am.  I wait until the alarm goes off, I get up turn on the coffee, raise the thermostat on the heater and jump in the shower, same routine for many many years.  And everything I do has a time limit.  So many minutes to lay in bed once I am awake, so many minutes to shower, so many minutes to enjoy coffee.  Everything I have always done has been on a schedule, breakfast, lunch, dinner, everything.  And now, I still wake at the same time, I still wait for the alarm, I still get up to turn on the coffee, and I still turn up the thermostat, but now I also come back to lay in bed, not to sleep but just to lay there.  I don’t think about anything other than trying to force myself to get out of bed.  I don’t know how to explain this thing…this grief.  I feel this grief has taken my body hostage and has imprisoned me.  It is sort of like, me not being able to do the things my mind is wanting me to do. I know this is ridiculous, but I cannot move. How strong do you suppose people would think I was if they knew how many countless days I have had to drag myself out of bed at the last minute…to go to the work in the morning…without bathing, and pretending nothing is wrong?  Now I have no schedule, I rarely cook, and if I do it is never on schedule.  I am always hurrying out the door in the morning instead of taking my time as before.  All because I cannot get out of bed.  Not because I want to sleep in…but because I am just lying there in bed.  There will be those of you who will say, “What is wrong with that, I see nothing wrong with lying in bed.”  But to me…this to me…is not normal.  Am I still a strong woman? 

The other morning I was talking to Dwaine about my memorial garden.  A garden I am in the process of planning for this spring, (I actually started the beginnings of a memorial garden last summer but could not function well enough to physically or emotionally finish it).  Dwaine is my friend and the person closest to me right now.  He has helped me more than anyone emotionally after losing Jeff, and he more than anyone knows how very much I suffer.  At least I thought he did...I didn't know how else to describe it and even Dwaine looked a little startled that morning we talked.  I told him I sat in the corner most of the time and was unable to function. I thought he knew I was always in the corner.  That morning he asked about my saxophone lessons and how my playing was coming alone he seemed to be surprised when I said, “Dwaine, I sit in my corner.  I paid for 5 lessons thus far this month, I have taken two lessons, and I have canceled two lessons.  I have not yet opened my case to practice my playing. Don’t you know, I thought you knew I am stuck in my corner?”

Dwaine looked at me in disbelief, “Olgie, no I didn’t know. I thought you were doing better.”

Although I did not say it, I thought to myself, “Better than what?”  I thought, “You thought I was doing better than what?”   I said, “Dwaine, I really am trying to push forward.  Some days are better than others, but the majority of the time I am stuck in my corner. This grief has an unrelenting hold on me and there is nothing I can do to fix it.” 

How could Dwaine or anyone else not see this…my house is a pigsty…I am always home.  I never get dressed, I run around in sweats (even at work I no longer dress up in anything other than jeans), I have gained weight due to my inactivity.  Although he said he understood I could see he was not fully convinced.  I cannot explain it…perhaps it is a selfish need of mine to wallow in my own self-pity.  I mean, what the hell...after all I did lose my only child!  Am I not allowed to muddle in misery?  A friend of mine, who lost her newborn son several weeks after Jeff passed, has just given birth to a baby boy.  Less than a year later, God has given her a second chance at being a mother.  I am happy for her and her husband and yet at the same time I am jealous of their new found happiness. How can I be so cruel in my jealousy of their happiness?  I am not the kind of person who envies others…all I feel is jealousy for their happiness.  The same way I am jealous for Jeff and Steve being together, I find myself jealous for the happiness of these two beautiful people. What does this say about Olgie? Knowing this is wrong, what does this say?'     

Why is God not helping me?  Why has he forsaken me?  What does that say about God and my doubts in asking for his help?  He gave this young couple a new life to hold, to love, and all he did was take from me.  How much more will he take from me?  This almighty God...what more will he take from me?   

February 18, 2014

Hi Doob,

The closer I get to your 1^st anniversary the darker my world is becoming.  I lay in bed every night wondering what happened.  I lay in bed thinking of when we will once again be united, and how we will reunite.  I wish I had just one word to describe these past months without you in my world. I have none.  There are no words to describe your absence.   I know in time this pain will subside…subside…not go away but diminish a little at a time.  The thing is I am not dealing in time...I am dealing with 'in the moment' emotions.   I sit in my corner baby…that is what I do, when I am not with Tina or Dwaine I sit in my corner.  My house, looks ‘like a Mexican joint,’ and I don’t even care.  That alone should tell you something.  I made it through everything alone these past months, my birthday, your birthday, Mother’s day, the holidays…oh my God! The holidays!  They were excruciating for me.  When I say I am alone, I mean alone, without you here with me.  And now there is the anniversary of your death...I do not know how I can do this.  Help me baby.

The other night I was home alone and up late…again…trying to figure out what happened.  You were supposed to let me know when you were ready to give in to your body...what happened?  Even though you have been away from me all this time…my mind still has not fully accepted you will be gone for all time. Isn’t that foolish?  I lay in bed and still hope the stupid phone will ring.   I still lay my phone on my bed every night, so when you call I can pick it up on the first ring…so it doesn't wake anyone.   I lay waiting for a stink’n miracle...a miracle that I know will never come.  I sit in my corner and I watch TV…that is all I do baby.  I so want to call you so we can watch TV together, so we can play poker together.  I talk to you out loud while I watch TV…and then I answer for you. How stupid is that?  This is what I do, I sit in my corner and I talk to you aloud.  I am just lost…I am just lost.

What happened baby, that last year?  What happened?   One minute you were here and the next you were gone.   It’s the story of my life…one minute someone is here and then they are gone.  I have gone over our conversations over and over in my mind.   Our conversations…from the time you started babbling to the very last conversation the day before you died.  All the memories I have in my head…will never be enough.  Because the memory of Seb’s phone call is all I think of.   I keep trying to remember every word he said to me that day.  I don’t remember all the words.  I can remember all these conversations we had together when you were a little baby to the day before you died…and I cannot remember all the conversation of the day you died. I can remember conversations I had with you while I carried you.  I called you Jeff, even before you were conceived your father and I were working on making Jeff.  We never called you the baby while you were in my womb...you were always Jeff.  Did we ever tell you that?  Jeff is moving, Jeff is kicking, Jeff is getting really big.  What the hell happened?  I need to remember the details of the day I lost you…I need to remember.

I am trying so damn hard to keep moving…but the truth is…the longer you are gone…it is just getting harder and harder for me to stay above ground.  Some days the agony of my loss is so intense I am afraid…afraid I may not have it to make it thru the day baby.   Or perhaps I should say it is getting harder for me to remain sane, because the very thought of you not being in my life for the rest of my days is at times making me insane.  It is way too much for me to grasp, to accept. I try hard not to dwell on those thoughts…those are the days I find myself talking to the therapist.  She at least listens…I guess this is what they get paid to do.  They are professional listeners.   They don’t have the answers I need but they at least let me dump on them.   Which is way more than the few people who are left in my life are doing right now.

How do parents live through such a loss?  Could that be the answer baby?  I just wrote parents…as in two parents.   A couple. I am no longer a couple…perhaps that is why this is so damn hard.  I do not have your father to share this loss with me.  Your father is already there, where ever there is…he is with you. Could this be the reason I cannot fully accept your loss?  No, I don’t have your dad here with me...but honestly…it is probably just as well, because your death surely would have killed him just as it is killing me.

I feel so empty inside Doob.  Empty, void of emotions, void of any love, void of a future, void of giving a shit about life itself!  I feel I am at a standstill.  And God...where the hell has he been through all of this.  I think you were right all along, perhaps there isn't a God for us.  God is not here for me.   I need your help honey.  I am in such a dark dark place right now.  I need your help. You have always been my light..without you I have no light.  Help me baby.

~Mom

Masks, And Secondary Loss

Masks, And Secondary Loss

It is not unusual for of the deceased to wear masks? Why would the bereaved wear disguises? Have you any idea who it is we are protecting? Oh yes, to answer my own question...we wear false faces daily. I am not talking about actual masks, I am talking about hiding our true feelings. We hide behind smiles, we hide behind our work, we blend into the background, and we do this to protect ourselves from the pitiful stares from all who know of our loss. We go through life hiding from the gazes given us by family and friends. We go through the day wearing a fictitious smile, and pretending not to hear the whispers. We do this, not only to protect ourselves…but also to protect those around us. What do you suppose would happen if those around us knew we mourned throughout each day? Would you feel uncomfortable if you knew this? Would you go out of your way to avoid us? Damn straight, you would indeed elude us like the plague. Why? For no other reason than we make everyone around us feel ill at ease.  If the people in our lives knew we suffer in grief daily, that knowledge alone would invade their comfort zone. People are afraid. Family/friends don't know what to say, are afraid they will say the wrong thing, don’t know how to act around us, so instead of just sitting and listening to us...they avoid us, albeit unintentional. It is a fact. We can get a complete stranger to listen, to understand, to have empathy…why…because they are not emotionally connected to us. How do/can we change our emotional makeup at a drop of a hat…after all…we just lost someone we loved. We cannot just flip on a switch to change our moods…so instead we learn to hide behind a pretentious facade. It really is a learned act on our part. After continuously seeing people avoiding eye contact, changing the subject, or stop asking how you feel…it doesn’t take long to realize we make other feel out of place around us. We who bemoan, put on our shoes one foot at a time, we go to work, interact with people daily…wearing this ‘happy face,’ but have you ever wondered what happens when we return home?

After I lost Steve, it took me years to get back my sense of self. It didn’t matter where I went nor did it matter whether or not I had a good time, every single time I returned home and opened the front door…it was as though I ran at full speed into a brick wall. The same way a babbling brook will turn into a roaring river after heavy rains, reality flooded my head, and reminded me that my loss is real. The pain I felt at the time and the pain I feel now with my son’s absence…is never ending. As a result, I immediately let go of my public persona and I revert to what’s left of my old self. You see, behind closed doors, we are the bereaved who cannot get out of the corner. In many cases we have come to rely on the ‘little pills,’ alcohol, food, or whatever crutch we use/need to make the pain go away. Truth is this absolute intense pain…does not go away. 

People ask, “How are you doing?” When anyone asks this question…the reply is simply…”good or fine.” And the person who asks the question simply walks away feeling good about the response. 

What they need to ask is, “How are you really doing?” I guarantee the response they get will be so much more than they can handle…and when they walk away they will not be feeling good. 

The differences between the first and second question is only one word…but the response would be mind boggling. In truth, all bereaved want to do is talk about the person who perished. It's unfortunate very few people are willing to listen. And for the people who do listen...half of them are squirming the whole time you are talking. Why? The reason is simple…nobody can sit there and watch another person cry. The whole aftermath of this entire grieving progression is just plain sad, regardless of which side of the coin you are on. 

I recently celebrated a birthday.  Tina, my step-daughter, invited close friends and family over for a party to celebrate.  Against my better judgment, I decide to go to avoid hurting her feelings. I was having an especially bad day to begin with, and really did not want to attend this party which was intended just for me.  (Whenever I go to these events I feel people are peering at me, whispering about me to each other. I make them uncomfortable and they make me feel like they are watching my every move.) Things were going along fine, we were all sitting around the table eating cake …but memories of Jeff were invading my mind. Jeff was missing here among the people I love most. The next thing I knew and at the drop of a hat, The tears which I had thus far held back started running down my face uncontrollably. It was my birthday, my son was not with us to celebrate.  Even though he lived in another state, he would have been here at the party, on the other end of the phone. I could not compose myself and sobbed aloud without care. Everyone look at me with disbelief, not knowing what to do. Some of them look around to see if anyone was going to take the initiative, while others just looked down to avoid looking at me. My friend Dwaine, could see my family was not coming to my aid, so he from across the room, took the initiative. He stepped over chairs and pushed his way around my grandson to make his way toward me. He embraced me until I stopped crying. All I needed was a hug to make me feel better, to make me feel loved. Everyone ignore me…I made them feel extremely ill at ease. We were there to play games, instead, I made them all feel bad. Excuses were made and each of them left early. There were no games played that night, everyone was gone within 30 minutes. 

This is why we go through life masquerading our emotions. This is why we do not share our deepest feelings, our inner most thoughts. This is why we are not honest in saying we are grief-stricken for the person we lost. This is why our family/friends stay away from us during our time of sorrow. My family, my closest friends did nothing, said nothing. Why? Because I made them feel awkward. Because I made them remember I was still devastated, and by crying aloud and in their presence, I reminded them again…of the reason I was heartbroken. We who suffer…suffer alone, it is a fact! 

The bereaved lose more than just a loved one. We sometimes also lose everything and every one associated with the deceased. This is referred to as a Secondary Loss. Secondary losses come in many forms. It could be a financial loss due to the loss of a spouse. His/her share of the family monetary income is now loss, thereby leaving the surviving spouse alone to take on the full financial burden of all household debts.  Their new income may be insufficient to make ends meet, leaving them in a position they may have never been in before. As a result the remaining spouse may have to lose/sell their home.  Children also suffer if they are caught in the crossfires. If children have to be relocated due to loss of their home they also take an emotional hit by losing their safety net, such as friends, bedrooms, schools, etc, which could lead to emotional anguish down the road. Leaving the children in a position of having to start in new surroundings, which could bring about difficulty in adapting to new neighborhoods, schoolwork, and difficulty making new friends, etc. Although this type of secondary loss is theoretical, in today’s economic state of affairs…this is a very real scenario. Losing a spouse/loved one can be devastating to the entire family and can have a domino effect for many months down the road. 

The disappearance of family and friends after your love one expires or even after a couple divorces is a very real scenario. Some family members will go out of their way to avoid the survivor for aforementioned reasons, leaving the survivor feeling alone and abandoned. It is akin to a divorce where one party gets the family and friends while the other party, through no fault of their own, losses them all. The description of a family I used earlier can be seen as loss, after loss, after loss, or as an incremental loss or incremental grief, where the entire house tumbles down brick by brick. One thing happens after another, after another…all as a result of someone passing away.

Incremental grief, can take the largest toll on an individual or a family. Another example, one which I am all too familiar with, is where the individual suffered by illness, long term. There are many emotions associated with his/her illness long before they are deceased. The death which has been difficult for the deceased, has been a long time in coming, and can also involve conflict with family and or professionals. The illness can drag on leaving your loved one to suffer in tremendous pain. As a caretaker there is nothing you can do to help ease the pain or lessen the burden he/she feels is put on you. Many things are said/done by family/friends either to the caretaker or to he/she who is ill. They may blame the doctors, the caretaker, or even the person who is dying. Words are devastating…people can forgive, but can never forget things that have been said to them or about them. People have a need to blame someone for the suffering of the loved one...it is so much easier to put the blame elsewhere than to accept their own responsibilities or rather their own guilt for not helping out.

Anticipatory grief is grieving your loved one long before they expire. As their caretaker, you'll see their pain day end and day out. One day you may wish for them to die to end their suffering...then the next day you'll do anything to keep them alive as long as possible. You may be riddled with feelings of guilt due to your thoughts about wanting/needing them to 'just die and get it over with.' Or you or your family may be suffering from guilty conscience due to how much he or she may be suffering. You may blame yourself or others may blame you for things you have said or done during the illness.  Another very real scenario is you may be angry at the person suffering because of the things they did to you prior to their illness, or because of the things they could not do for you because they are ill. Although others may see you as a strong individual, you may be angry because you see yourself differently. Unless we have been thrown into this situation where one of our own is gravely ill, none of us know how we will react. We all speculate the things we would or wouldn't do. We at times may feel helpless and find comfort in our faith, or we may lose our spirituality altogether. This is what I have come to do...I have lost my faith or at the very least I am strongly questioning it. I do not know what my spiritual future will be...all I know is right now I am angry at God. Have literally blamed God for both Jeff and Steve's deaths. Right now I am as odds with my own faith...with my God. 

Feelings of isolation are very real and although nobody has actually abandoned you, you may feel they have.  

Everyone says, "If you need me call me," or they will say "I am here if you need me." It could be they really will be ready to help you, but they may be waiting for you to reach out to them.  Meanwhile, you are wondering why they haven't called you to see how you are doing. Life can be very cruel...especially when communication is misinterpreted by all.  We all have people in our families who are our rocks...yet the minute they found out someone died...they are nowhere in sight. 

  “Where the hell is everyone?” I have ask this question many many times during these last 11 months. Truth is they have been hiding, with their heads in the sand. Hoping this will all blow over so they won't have to feel.  If they don't see it, if they don't talk about it...then they don't have to dwell on it.  Meanwhile, in my case...I have been feeling like nobody (family/friends), gave a damn about Jeff.  If they could not talk about Jeff's death, if they could not talk to me about him...then it must be because they did not love my son.  Can that be true?  Probably not...but that really did go through my mind. 

   

Your anger may be directed at the person you lost...because after all...they left you. Theoretically, the anger you are feeling will pass with time, although quite honestly...no bereaved parent/spouse wants to hear those words from anyone. 

"Oh, I know you are sad/angry now, but it will get better in time.  Time heals everything."  Who really gives a crap about that...we don't give a damn about emotions down the road.  We are dealing with very deep real  emotions right now in the present. Be it sadness or anger...we don't care about the future.  

Hell, truth is, most grievers cannot even appreciate they are in a state of anger, let alone want to hear someone tell them they are going through an angry stage. Family and friends who are 'on the outside looking in' have a better view of the stages we are going through, even though we cannot/do not realize it ourselves. 

Complicated grief is profound sorrow that gets worse as time passes. The bereaved have trouble moving on with their lives and may become more and more depressed without signs of emotional improvement. Therapy would probably be the treatment of choice in this situation.

“I could see myself going down this road. My emotions, my depression were completely taking over. I was having too many suicidal thoughts that would not go away. Up to this point I have done all that I can to stay alive...although I am full aware that I am not really 'living,' and even though some days it feels like I am just going through the motions...I am still above ground which has to be a good thing.” I think Jeff would be proud of me for being able to share my thoughts, for not being ashamed of criticism.

http://ottawa.ca/en/caregiver-guide/your-emotions-caregiver

 

http://books.google.com/books?id=t6ISrB6wpb0C&pg=PA44&lpg=PA44&dq=secondary+loss+after+death&source=bl&ots=vPdAvCRx48&sig=rydYLOeEymA7xd3bEz3pK1Erbvs&hl=en&sa=X&ei=BEj5UtSsLqi02gWI44C4CQ&ved=0CFAQ6AEwBg#v=onepage&q=secondary%20loss%20after%20death&f=false