Any Change is Loss

Arleah on the grieving process:

Any change is loss, weather it is good change or bad change, and all loss requires some grieving.  Grieving is on a continuum, from the death of a loved one, all the way to “Oh rats, I lost my umbrella.”    The built in mechanism for dealing with this wide range of feelings is the grieving process, which is as necessary as the breathing process etc.

          

Life as We Knew It – Emotions – Choices

In the center of the spiral is life, as we knew it, which is followed by all the actions we tried and attempts we made to keep everything the same. In the event of an accident, this is often the “if onlys” and “what ifs” recriminations that we fantasize could have changed the outcome. As we move around the spiral we come to the choices. This should actually look like a web, as it is difficult to know which way to go, and it is easy to get trapped in one of the arms.

 Grieving

The next point is grieving itself, which is essentially an invisible, intangible, and immeasurable internal experience that is difficult to share. The rest of the spiral is benchmark points that create the long-term consequences of change. This is why people resist change (grief); it is hard, even brutal, and very unsafe—unsafe in the sense that life is no longer predictable, measured, or secure.

Realigned Priorities

As people move around the spiral they find that what was important a year ago seems to fade in the background or may seem trivial. These old issues grow into new awakenings, avenues, and endeavors. In short, most of our priorities are realigned. For me, this is where I began to find political correctness less and less tolerable, and my relationships more precious. I found myself more open with people I care about, and more confrontational and demanding, as I didn’t want anything left unsaid or undone ever again.

  

Different Viewpoint

 As priorities shift and realign, it leads to all sorts of tangled feelings, thoughts, and outcomes. Our point of view is like a kaleidoscope; all the pieces are the same, but what and how we see the world is ever squiggling. This is quite unnerving, as it is hard to predict our own reactions anymore, and that is downright scary. My own political viewpoint began to slide across the spectrum of liberal to conservative, which required a whole renegotiation with the world I lived in. All of this happened over a period of years, so the new outlook was gradual. I don’t know what life would be like if Sharon hadn’t died, but what I do know is what I have rebuilt has been worth the effort. Through all the grieving, where I finally landed is in the present, a very nice place to live.

Integration

 I have always seen my life as a journey through a dark and scary forest, where there are all sorts of obstacles, cliffs, and wild beasties to deal with. Every once in a while I come to a meadow—the sun is shining, the grass is green, and it is good to be alive. That is when the integration of all the hard labor is accomplished and I get to rest for a while. What I know about myself is that at some time I’m going to get tired of the meadow, look up and say, “Gee, I wonder what’s over that ridge,” and plunge right back into the forest. This meadow corresponds to the acceptance and in memoriam stages of grief.

New Behavior – Current Behavior

Any new behavior emerges out of the previous points along the way. New behaviors, like standing up for myself better, grew out of feeling more confident that I can deal with the forest, which grew from accepting that, sadly, I can never go back to the way I was. This was an important choice point: To decide whether to go on or shut down. This, then, becomes current behavior, which leads right back to the center of the spiral and starts all over again with any significant change in our lives. Less significant change is simply a smaller spiral. With the pace of change in our world today, there are commonly several spirals going on at the same time, certainly adding to our sense of stress.

Grief; The Joy Grabber

Grief; The Joy Grabber

Have you ever had a wonderful success, or gotten a promotion, only to find yourself sinking into the dumps?

Have you ever been in a conversation and suddenly find yourself spiraling into a funk for no apparent reason?

Have you ever wondered why you can’t just be happy?

The answer is simple, the resolutions, not so much.

The answer is that you have been grabbed from behind by change without the awareness or tools to process what it means to you.

Ask yourself what isn’t in your life that was there as short a time ago as a year, let alone 5 or 10.  Then ask the other side of the question, what is there that wasn’t a year or so ago.  All that change means the loss of something; the unconscious doesn’t distinguish between good or bad loss, just that “something is different”.  It is disorienting at the least and devastating at the worst, depending on the extent of the change.  What is hard to realize is that all the change in our lives requires a constant redefinition of ourselves.  Such as, yesterday I was an employee; today I am on food stamps, or yesterday I was pregnant, today I’m a mom.  Or for me, I once was a mom, now I’m a bereaved parent.

When the goal in life is “Don’t Worry, Be Happy”, these down times are unsettling.  Most people just beat themselves up for being weird and assume there is something wrong with them.  We create all sorts of “hope trips’ to explain our malaise, such as, when I get my promotion, then I’ll be happy, or my new car will make things right.  For women the hope is, that when I get married and have a family, then I will be happy, for men, if only I could get enough sex, then I would be happy. 

It is our inability to deal with loss/change that is the joy grabber. 

How did this happen?  It’s a control thing actually.  “Control yourself!” is a phrase I have heard since I could understand language.  And of course I have learned to control myself, as most of us have.  So when I was confronted with the sudden, shocking death of my daughter I was unprepared to be that “out of control”.  Over the years since then I have relearned how to control myself, but not completely. 

Actually I learned how to manage my feelings, which is quite different then merely controlling them.  Managing feelings means letting myself experience them and then making a choice about how to express them.  Like, for example, getting a promotion, being thrilled, excited and eager to implement my new ideas and systems, then in six months to a year wondering why you feel so irritable, angry and out of sorts.  You certainly don’t want to go back to the old job, but can’t seem to move forward in the new position.   That’s the joy grabber, grief, undercutting your ability to not only enjoy life, but to keep moving forward. 

Grief, the joy grabber caps our success, happiness and all around ability to understand how to grow.

The way out of this quagmire is to say good-bye to the old so you can be in the present with the new.  Works like magic every time.        

My Grief is like...

My Grief is like…

a lightening storm, with jagged bolts of pain hitting my heart from all directions with no warning, terrifying and feeling helpless in between the jolts., never knowing where or when the next searing pain is coming

a tornado destroying everything in its path, hurling my life every which way, I am out of control, with no place to hide and no escape.

an earthquake, smashing the world into rubble that used to be my life, I wonder how to rebuild myself.

a black hole in my soul that no one can see or hear or touch, but sucks everything in its direction despite my resolve to be strong.

nothing else in life.  Humbling, unsharable, lonely, devastating, life changing,

a build up of pain that overtakes me one way or another, like a Tsunami that overwhelms all my attempts to control myself and brings all my old debris to the surface.

The only way I have found to reduce the intensity of those times is to embrace the bolts, sort through the rubble and hold on tight to those who can tolerate me.

Tolerance for grief in the long haul is an iffy thing.  Everyone, including the bereaved person, tend to forget “what is wrong”, and disappear into business, happy things or internal retreat.  Often shows up indirectly as cynicism and bitterness.

Grief: The Healing Choice

I will never forget April 13, 1978: it was the day I walked into my house and discovered that my fifteen-year-old daughter, Sharon, had died of a drug overdose. Yes, I know that is a difficult sentence to read. And even though I have done so numerous times, it’s also difficult to write. Almost 35 years later, I still can’t look at that particular arrangement of letters and numbers without being mentally transported back to that horrific day.

If you’re a parent, you’ve probably considered what it might be like to lose a child.  (Chances are you quickly pushed the thought away, as it’s too dreadful to contemplate for long. I understand.)  Almost certainly, you suspect that the death of a child is the worst thing that could happen to a parent. How could anyone get over such a loss and resume living a normal life?

The short answer is, you can’t. There is no “getting over” the fact that your beloved child has taken her last breath. But the longer answer is, there is life after a child’s death. Not a life that’s identical to the one you led before—you cross an invisible line and there is no way back—but one that is worthwhile and that contains fulfillment…and sometimes even joy.

There’s a prerequisite, though: to move forward, you must first make the choice to grieve.

That’s right—to a larger extent than many people think, grieving is a choice. Consciously or unconsciously, you can decide to ignore grief when it presents itself: mentally squelching it, postponing it through frenetic activity, and neutralizing it with drugs or alcohol.

But here’s the irony. Not grieving is, in the long run, more painful than the pain you’re seeking to avoid.  It’s widely believed that repressed grief can lead to illnesses like upper respiratory infections, digestive problems and even cardiovascular disease.  This makes sense: the stress and anxiety that come from exerting that much control over your thoughts, emotions, and body are profound. And of course, the potentially dire consequences of self-medication are obvious.

It’s also possible to “shut down” and become stuck in one of the phases of grief.  Even though others may think you seem all right on the surface, the truth is, you have actually “agreed” to stop growing, loving, daring, and moving on in exchange for not feeling any more pain and loss.  Frankly, this is not living. It’s merely existing.

I have healed—and continue to heal daily—after losing Sharon, but only because I have made the choice to grieve. Over the years, I have screamed, cried, vented my rage, and submerged myself in intense waves of grief whenever they washed over me. Over time (and initially to my surprise) I discovered that I was able to enjoy my life once more. I have even found that my appreciation for life, my joy in small delights, and the richness of my relationships have grown.

This may surprise you. It surprised me.  But it’s undeniable: grieving my lost child has opened my eyes to everything lovely and wonderful about our world.  I see, act, and react more authentically. My compassion and gratitude for others has grown, and I stop to smell the roses more often—I call it ‘living from the gut.’ I see this as the “reward” for choosing grief: Once you have descended to the lowest of lows, you are also able to experience new highs, That’s because your soul and psyche are much like a balloon that stretches in all directions.

Be aware, however that grieving is not a linear, predictable process. Its progression and manifestations differ from person to person. You certainly never “finish” grieving. Rather, you must make the choice to grieve over and over again as the years pass.

If you are facing the loss of a child, please, choose to grieve. Yes, there will be darkness, but I promise, you will also come to see the “silver lining” gleaming through.  

Finally, let this truth resonate in your heart: the new life you’re creating would not be possible without the love you felt—and still feel—for your child.  It is her final gift to you.  And accepting it graciously is your final gift to her.

Grief Cannot be Contained

Grief Cannot be Contained

The death of my child was like an 8.0 earthquake on the ocean shelf and the upheaval that followed was the tsunami that destroyed everything I had known, built and counted on.  As the shore cannot contain the ocean waves, neither can the enormity of my grief, or of a spouse’s or of a child’s.

I found myself puzzled, frantic and overwhelmed by my inability to regain control, or get back “to the way things were” I found myself suddenly sobbing and breaking down without my permission and, usually, with little warning, it is hideous. I found myself judging myself as crazy, weird and all manner of negative self-judgments.  All of my inexperience in managing feelings and constant implosions add to the horror of what I face.

Most of all I did not know who or what I am anymore.  Those around me try to help, but cannot because no one can see, touch hear, or smell the destruction.  It is invisible intangible and worst of all, immeasurable.  It is a hole in my soul.

I had very little experience in dealing with such powerful, pervasive, uncontrollable feelings.
 

The most common statements I hear from bereaved folk and asked myself, is, “What’s wrong with me?”  Or “Why can’t I seem to stop crying all the time?”    This is often followed by the statement. “I hate it, I just hate it!  Please make it stop hurting.”

At the end of the day, after all is said and done and all the help has gone home, the black hole of my grief cannot be contained, only expressed.

I wish it were otherwise.