This has been a rough week. First there is much needed work to be done at the temple with the High Holidays and can I just say the usually nice, calm, level headed lady that I usually work with was replaced by some overstressed, emotional demon. WOW is all I can say I am glad its almost over and we can get back to our smooth and comfortable work place.
Wednesday I had a therapy session, and then at night I went to a grief journaling class. IT is a 9 week class. This class brought me down, very down. I feel so alone. I know there are many around me, yet I feel alone. At home I am often alone as Scott is always out, and when he is here well not much communication or any sort of emotional support. I suppose he is not sure what or how to reach me.
Anyways, I felt so bad after I left this group. There was about 20 people who lost someone, whether it be a spouse, a parent, a sibling. But there was one lady, who just sat there and cried, and just to look at her face I knew. I knew by the glazed, empty look on her face that she lost a child. I could not look at her. And when we went around the room to express who we lost I couldn't look at her. I knew I would be looking at me. I knew I should have reached out to her during the break, she just lost her son in August, he was 23, and he too gave up his life. For the rest of the session I just looked at the table, I did not want to look at anyone. The rest of the group was showing emotion, crying, etc: me I couldn't I just sat there staring at the table. Honestly, I didn't want to hear about anyone else's pain or suffering. Gosh that is so not like me, I feel so selfish and uncaring. Even in a room of twenty I felt alone. It was like the usual humored, caring Jeannette left the room and in her place sat this uncaring, unemotional bag of yuck.
My therapist wants to know how I am handling the grief. Honestly I am not handling the grief, I think somehow I am stuck in the back of my mind and I am in pretend mode. Only that's not working too well as I think its starting to creep to the front burner and I am afraid the fire will be very powerful. Maybe that's it, I don't want to deal with the pain. That pain hurts and is strong and it cripples you. I don't like that feeling. Yesterday I came home and went to bed, at 4 pm. I stayed there and only just got up an hour ago. Now my back hurts and I have a migraine. And I am sad and once again alone as Scott left to go who knows where. He probably is glad he has places to go. after all when he is here we both just skirt around each other. What a happy place to be...
4 comments:
Jeannette, I am so sorry you feel this way. "Uggh" is a terrible feeling and state of being. I am here.
Scott
I had a dream about Eric last night. He was trying to tell me something, but I did not get the message. It was weird. He was himself.
I miss him so. We are all incomplete now.
But we will never be alone. God is holding you in His mighty hand.
I know we are not in your shoes as you lost your son and we lost our brother, but God knows your pain.
He knows all our pain. He loves Eric more than we did.
I love you!
-Becky
Jeannette,
I've done the grieving thing before, although i've not ever had to lose a child. Never had one. What i found is that each grieving experience followed similar steps, but they could be in different order and at different levels of intensity. In each case, though, i was alone when i grieved. No one could walk through that pain for me. I had to go in by myself.
That didn't mean there weren't well wishers on the outside trying their best to cheer me on; most often, there were. Sometimes they were completely inept, would say the wrong thing, or found they weren't sure what i would do, was afraid i'd lose it, and they'd detach from me. I suppose it was a sort of self-defense mechanism. And, i've done it with others. It is so hard to watch someone you love hurting and know there is nothing you can do. And i mean Nothing. You. Can. Do.
The "usual humored caring Jeannette" might be you, but it might also be the you you want to show the world. Most people don't want to show their vulnerable side-unless they like playing the victim, but i see that as manipulation--i mean true vulunerablility, and there are times where that space can be just plain old icky when we're suffering a great hurt.
I can't cry in front of people, well on occasion as an adult i have, but it doesn't come easily for me, so i understand just sitting there in that dark, lonely place and feeling the isolation mount up as my gut twists and i wonder if i'll ever feel like myself again.
Again, speaking from my experience, when i start seeing someone in me i don't know, i find myself as befuddled as those who know me well. Who the hell is this? And where's the me i know? Knew? The one who left some time ago? Is she ever coming back? And how am i supposed to let others know what i need when i don't even know who i am anymore?
And then after sitting in that yuck place for awhile, i sorta come out of it, or numb out and do stuff. Then Whammo! it hits again with a vengence, and i ride the next wave. Or crash into the shore, can't always tell which.
I've not yet found a graceful way to handle it. I've only found messy ways, and i try to handle it myself so i don't bother others with it. I talk to God about it a lot, and there are times where i'll yell and get upset, and then that wave is over and i find that i am either numb or between waves, so i get up and do something constructive. Lather, rinse, repeat.
When my brother died, i felt worse for my gram than anyone else. She lost two grandchildren before she died, and i know she was wondering why God allowed her to live to see them die. I had no answers for her, and she didn't talk about it much, but we both knew it was there, and i found myself at times, just giving her a kiss or a hug to let her know i was thinking of her. We were not a very huggy kissy sort of family, but i know those just because kisses and hugs helped both of us.
megan
jeannette, i'm sending you hugs and kisses and more tight tight hugs. keep venting...either here or journaling. when i went to the hospice grief sessions there was a mom and daughter duo who lost a daughter/sister, grandchild/neice. the mom couldn't speak. she had a fake smile on her face and sat there with tears running down her face, clutching her purse, week after week.
they finally left the group because it wasn't time yet for them. i tell you that so in case it isn't time for you to sit in a room with others, you will know that is okay to feel that way.
like megan i have never known the specific pain you feel, the children i lost were never born. but we can still feel for you and want you to know we care tremendously for you and your family and what you are dealing with.
stay in the Word, and we will too.
love
sylvia
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