Letting Myself Grieve

To the outside world it looks like I've been grieving for the last 2.5 years.  I've expressed feeling sad.  From time to time they see tears.  I post on social media that it's hard on certain dates (anniversaries, birthdays, etc).  I paint the picture of the perfect grieving widow.

Which is why most of you would have been surprised to hear my therapist say to me, "Rachel, it's time to stop avoiding it and start grieving John."  She clearly sees what I've been hiding from the world - that I keep pushing those feelings aside instead of feeling and processing them.  This last Tuesday night was the first time I've allowed myself to cry - really, truly, gasping cry - without stopping myself after 30-60 seconds.  Typically that short burst of  crying takes place in the shower - that way it doesn't look like I've been crying.  And when we dug back to the root of it, it was all about spending most of my life being taught (intentionally or not) that I'm not allowed to feel big feelings, that when I do I'm just being a hysterical woman, and that my big feelings make other people feel uncomfortable and therefore should be avoided.  This led to me not wanting John to see me cry while he was sick and dying, and therefore having short outbursts in the shower.  

My attempts at avoiding big feelings, especially grief, led to me returning to work a week after both John and Mom died.  That allowed me to avoid my feelings and hide from them by staying busy.  When school got out for the summer I spent my time traveling and doing my other job - again, something that allowed me to throw myself into it head first and avoid facing my feelings.  

But as we all know, this pandemic has slowed everything down.  It's stripped away all distractions and left me feeling isolated - which is both good and bad.  And it's lead me to the point of needing to mourn my husband, to experience my grief.

I don't know what that looks like.  My therapist says she doesn't either.  And over time several people have asked what they can do that would be helpful.  I don't know that, either.  But here's what I do know - many, many times when I'm expressing my upset people respond by telling me things that aren't as helpful as they think.  Here's what I think when told the following:

  • "You're so strong" or "You're the strongest person I know." - This unintentionally sends the message that I have no choice but to be strong, that I cannot show weakness.  And guess what?  Showing weakness is already a struggle for me because of that lifelong message that I shouldn't make others feel uncomfortable.  Being told these things makes me feel like I've got to be some pillar of strength, the poster girl for pushing through.
  • "You've got this." - This unintentionally sends the message that I can handle it in and of myself, that I don't need help.  As someone who has always struggled to ask for help, this makes it even harder to do.
  • "If you need anything just let me know." - Guess what?  When big things are happening we don't know what we need.  I've often said that when John was sick I didn't know what we needed until 5 minutes after we actually needed it.  This "let me know" statement places the responsibility on the person going through tough times.  They're already overwhelmed, they truly don't have the capacity to identify needs or communicate them to others.
  • "He's still here with you." - No, he's not.  Want to see what Angry Rachel looks like?  Tell me John's still here when every part of my existence screams that he's not and that I'm now living life alone.
  • "Yours was such an amazing love story - at least you have that." - Please be wary any time you find yourself saying "at least".   It never feels empathetic to the other person, but instead feels dismissive.  It says that I should feel happy, or at least content, that I had something wonderful for 10 years.  It sends the message that I shouldn't be upset that it ended and I'm now on my own.
What's helpful to hear instead?
  • "I can see how you'd feel that way." - This is now a joke between me and my friend Netter, but think about.  When you're expressing big feelings do you want someone to try to explain them away for you?  Or do you want empathy?  Don't try to redirect my feelings, just acknowledge them, even if they make you feel uncomfortable.
  • "This sucks." - Someone said this to me the other day and I replied, "YES!  It really does!"   Pretending everything's fine doesn't help, but acknowledging that it sucks?  So supportive!
  • "Can I....?"  You fill in the blank.  "Can I arrange to have your lawn mowed for the summer?"  (That was one of the most helpful things that a friend did last year.)  "You mentioned ettouffee - can I bring some to you for lunch?"  (This happened on Friday and absolutely made my day.)  "Can my husband and I come see what repairs need to be done at your house and if we can help?"  (This is happening today and I can't tell you how helpful just the possibility of crossing things off the "honey do" list is when you don't have a honey to do them anymore.)  Offer specific ways to help - the other person will be so thankful!
  • "Would you like to join us for the holiday?" - That's the thing you don't realize until your loved ones are gone - it completely changes what your holidays look like. Even though I was a civilian, I grew up in an army town.  Mom often invited single GIs to join us for various holidays.  In some ways it became part of our family tradition.  When you're planning your holidays think about the people you know who might not have anyone with which to spend them.  Invite them to join you, or make new plans with them.  My sister and her husband completely re-framed what their Christmas looked like the year after John died so they could spend it with me and help me through.  
  • "Tell me more." - What was one of the most helpful things a friend has said to me?  When I sighed and said, "I just feel so sad" she answered with "tell me more."  And then she listened as I did just that.  She didn't try to talk me out of my feelings.  She didn't try to fix it for me.  She didn't even try to re-frame it for me.  She just listened.  
So hey, guess what?  I'm gonna work on fully experiencing my grief.  At times that might feel uncomfortable for you (I can guarantee it will feel uncomfortable for me).  I don't need you to fix it for me or take it away.  Just sit with me.  Breathe the same air.  Share space and BE.  



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