Grief's Abyss

Loss comes in many different shapes and sizes, and every single solitary soul copes in a different way. Grief is like a fingerprint.

I coped with mine by pretending I was fine.

On the outside, I looked okay.

On the inside, I was completely destroyed, an empty shell.

Every day following my Mother's death was an exercise in futility. Everything was an obstacle, from walking the dog, to trying to do laundry. I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t get out of bed. The loss was insurmountable.  I alienated everyone.  I tried not to cry, and held it in when I could. Somehow I convinced myself that crying was stupid because she was already gone, and I had not saved her.

What I type next may upset the people that love me. For that, I am truly sorry:

August 8, 2006: “I am no one anymore.  It doesn’t matter. My soul is dead. I can’t feel it, so it must be gone. My heart is just beating out of habit. I feel cold all the time. Everyone is looking at me and telling me they think I am strong. I hate it. I want to just scream to everyone that I fucking hate everyone and myself and to just leave me the hell alone already. I hate that I am still alive and she isn’t. It feels wrong that I am alive, when she was a better person than me.  I have locked myself in the bathroom a few times now. I drink wine while sitting in a hot bath, and wonder what would happen if I drank enough to drown. I wonder how much it would take. Yesterday I held a bottle of Advil in my hand, and tried to calculate how many I needed to take to kill myself.”

There is more, but that’s enough.  It was the lowest low I have ever experienced. I would be lying to you if I said that re-reading that journal entry did not rock me to the core. It's like someone else wrote that.

Eventually, my Dad became concerned with how low I was and pushed me to get help. It was only then that I began to really deal with the loss of my Mother.

If you are reading this right now, and dealing with recent or impending loss, please consider the following things. Learn from my mistakes:

1.       Do not pretend you are fine, you don't have to be anyone's hero.

2.       Let people love you and support you, don't push them away.

3.       Ask for help.

I still remember the first time I really and truly cried for my loss. Being honest with myself and talking to someone about my pain forced me to look at losing my Mom in a raw and open way, and it was only then that I cried the real hard tears of loss.

And it happened in a Winners changing room.

Almost a year after my Mother had died, I found myself in pieces while trying on clothing. Out of nowhere, I cried heart-wrenching sobs so painful and body-wracking that the people in the change rooms on either side of me came to see if I was okay. I did not stop crying for 45 minutes. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t speak.

When I got home, I went to bed and slept for 14 hours.

All of those tears that I had held in, the anger, the guilt, the pain, the depression….all of it came out in one huge overwhelming explosion.

Over 4 years later, I still get quite emotional when I think about my Mom. It's a given. The difference now is that I don’t feel the soul-crushing ache of loss as much as I do a ridiculous surge of joy and love. My heart explodes just remembering how amazing my mom was, and how lucky I am to have had 31 years with her as my very best friend. Choosing those feelings over the dark ones is easy now. I have a lot to live for.

I could not have pulled myself out of those dark months alone, and I know that. To the friends and family that stood by me even when I pushed them away, there aren't enough words to thank you for loving me. 

I am still here because of you.