No apologies

I have read that the stages of grief can be experienced in any order and may be experienced any number of times.  While that can be daunting to think about, it can also bring comfort.  At least you're not crazy.   There have been many times where I have felt acceptance, only to experience intense anger or depression again afterwards.  It's nice to know that this is normal.

One of the books that was recommended to me a long time ago was by a woman who had lost her son (he was mid-20s) very abruptly.  It was tragic and shocking. A few weeks after the services and things had "calmed down" (as much as they can), I was speaking with her and she mentioned that there was an "Elf Help" book which really helped her and brought her comfort.  This book is titled Grief Therapy and is written by Karen Katafiasz and illustrated by R.W. Alley.  It's pocket size, and it is easy to read over and over again.  Each page has both an illustration and a tip for dealing with grief.  It's easy to flip through and find the tip that speaks to you for that day.  I have found this book comforting as well.  For example, Tip #24 states, "In some ways, you never 'get over' a significant loss.  It inevitably changes you.  You can choose whether that change is for the better."  (Katafiasz, 2004).  The book lets you know that you don't have to apologize for the way you feel; allow yourself to experience the pain and believe you are ok.  But it also gently nudges you so that you remember that grief, like I stated in my previous post, can sometimes be a choice, and you have to decide whether the person you lost would want you to be sad or to use the loss as a momentum to propel you into a better life where you make a positive difference.  I'm not preaching, people; I'm trying to convince myself of this more than anything.

A few months after losing my mother, I found out that my beloved dog had cancer.  After a surgery and  upsetting news, I was forced to deal with the news that my dog, my other best friend besides my mother, only had a few months left to live.  A few days after that news, I had to put him down because his tumor burst and there was risk of infection as well as pain involved.  My poor baby.  I felt grief that day.  And maybe I grieved in the months leading up to his death, knowing that it was inevitable.  But I haven't felt grief since.  I've felt guilt about not feeling anything.  I've felt guilt that I couldn't have taken care of him longer.  I feel bad.  But I also wonder if perhaps I'm still in denial about this, and that one of these days it is going to hit me hard and take me down.

I have a lot of questions.  Why do bad things happen to good people?  And why do bad things happen in many clusters?  It seems like when you're down, life keeps on kicking you.  That's how I felt after my mother died and then my dog was diagnosed with sarcoma, the same cancer that took my mother's life.  Just keep on kicking me, life.  However, as much pain as I sometimes feel, or guilt, or heaviness, I still believe there is a rainbow at the end of the storm.  I must have hope.  You must have hope.  Better things are to come.  Your loss is not going to go away, but there are positive things to come from it.  Have hope.

I started this blog because maybe, just maybe, it will make someone else feel better.  Maybe it will make someone else feel a little less crazy.  Maybe there is someone like me who isn't dealing with their grief and isn't allowing themselves to feel.  But also, I started this blog for myself.  I need to hold myself accountable for my feelings and not bury them deep down inside.  I need to experience grief outside of denial.  I'm going to explore my grief and share my journey.

Sometimes people ask me how I am and I say "Good."  Sometimes people ask me how things are going and most of the time I say "They're going."  I say these things with a smile because I feel like if I give them a real and honest answer I might freak them out or make them feel bad for asking in the first place.  We all know that the "How are you?" question is really just being polite, right?  Aren't you supposed to answer with "Great!"?  In the book Experiencing Grief by H. Norman Wright, he states:

We are not immune to pain, but we resist its intrusion.  There are several ways we do this.          Some fight the pain through denial.  We say "No, it isn't true", or attempt to live our lives as though nothing has happened.  When you hear about the death, your first response is often "No, that's not true.  Tell me it isn't so!  No", or "You're mistaken."  You're trying to absorb the news, and it takes time to filter through the shock.  This is normal.  You're trying to make sense of the nonsensical.  But some continue this process and that's what we call sensible.  When asked how they are doing, their response is always, "I'm doing just fine", instead of saying "I am really hurting today."  Denial can lead to even greater losses.  The author of A Grace Disguised said of those who are unwilling to face their pain that "ultimately it diminishes the capacity of their souls to grow bigger in response to pain."  (p. 9)

Wow.  I think it's time for a little more honesty, and less of the social niceties.  Let's be honest with our pain.  We don't have to wallow in it, but we can try to deal with it honestly instead of burying it deep inside.  Embrace the pain, and maybe acceptance will come a little easier.  With honesty, perhaps that cycle of grief might not have to be experienced over and over again numerous times.  After all, if we stay in denial, according to H. Norman Wright, we could potentially experience greater losses.  If I continue to bury my pain and stay polite and smiley on the outside, aren't I also losing a piece of myself?  Interesting thoughts...