I had admitted that I was angry. I had identified some of the reasons for my anger. I knew who I was angry with (sometimes it was everybody around me!). Now I had to figure out what to do about my anger and how to express it in appropriate ways. My counselor, the preacher, and the books had many suggestions ... exercise, garden, go to a secluded place and scream, beat a pillow, start a journal, vent with a friend or counselor, join a support group, pray. Every outlet they suggested doesn't work for every person, though. I had to take the TIME to find which of these worked for me.
I knew without even trying it that gardening wasn't for me. I've never been very interested in planting things or working in the yard. Eddie always took excellent care of everything outside so there was never a reason for me to. I've always enjoyed walking, so I gave that a try. I realized quickly that I had to find somewhere other than our neighborhood to walk because that was where Eddie had always done his walking (he was always big on exercise). So I started going to a park in town that had a walking trail. I didn't want to go to a gym because I needed to be outside. The walking was good exercise but it didn't really relieve my anger. I went to a support group meeting one time, but decided that wasn't for me. I knew before I went that I wouldn't like it. I probably should have gone with a more open mind, but I had been to Alanon meetings in the past and hated them. I didn't want to talk to my family or my friends about the anger because I felt like they were already hearing enough from me about my grief. I tried sitting in my car with the windows rolled up and screaming, but that just gave me a headache.
I found that I benefited the most from two things that were the complete opposite of each other - writing in a journal and beating on something. Writing gave me a calm way to express my anger. I could put my feelings and the reasons for them on paper, then do whatever I wanted with them. Sometimes I kept what I wrote. Sometimes I ripped it up and threw it away. A couple of times I even burned what I had written. The more I wrote the better I felt. It was like yelling at someone without making any noise. The beating and punching gave me a physical way to express my anger. Sometimes I beat on the pillows in my bedroom, but most of the time I took it out on Edde's recliner. I think I was still trying to make myself angry at Eddie himself. I used my fists, my blow dryer, other pillows, even Emily's ball bat. The beating and punching exhausted me, so I didn't have the energy to feel anger after I finished.
Finding the right outlet for my anger doesn't mean that I never took it out on others, though. Looking back I realize there were times that I snapped at family and friends, times I said hurtful things, times I withdrew, and times that I was probably downright rude. I had to hope that others realized that wasn't the real me, that it was just the grief "talking". I was finding out that at least for a time grief turns you into a totally different person - sometimes I didn't even recognize myself.
"In the midst of your daily storms, make it a point to be still and set your sights on God. Let God be God. Let him bathe you in his glory so that your breath and your troubles are sucked from your soul. Be still. Be quiet. Be open and willing. Then you will know that God is God." -Max Lucado
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Anger - OK or Not?
Most of us are taught when we are growing up that it isn't appropriate or acceptable to express anger. We learn that while it may be OK to feel angry, we're not supposed to act on those feelings, or at the very least we should be extremely careful about how we express our anger. I believe this to be the case even more so for females than for males. It's not considered "lady-like" to get mad, show frustration, express negative feelings, or act on feelings of anger. However, this was apparently not something that I learned very well because I have always been very vocal about expressing my anger. That didn't change after Eddie's death.
Once I started counseling sessions and visits with the preacher I had to admit and explore my feelings of anger. I learned from them as well as from my reading that anger is a normal response to the loss of a loved one, and that holding it in, not expressing it can lead to depression. It is a natural reaction and sometimes appears suddenly. It can be expressed outwardly or through withdrawal, and is usually related to what we see as the unfairness of the death. Our anger may be misplaced or misdirected because we are looking for someone to blame, and if we are completely honest we want someone to "pay" for what happened.
I've always known that anger was a step in the grieving process, but I never knew for sure who you were supposed to get mad at. I assumed it was the person who died - you should get mad at them for leaving - but my anger wasn't directed at Eddie. I tried to make myself mad at him - after all he abandoned me by choice. But every time I tried all I could do was picture him on the side of the road, at night, in the rain, alone, feeling so desperate that he felt his only solution was to end his own life, so I only felt pain and heartache. My feelings of anger toward him never developed. They did develop towards everyone else though.
I was mad at Eddie's family for a time. They all lived anywhere from 2 - 4 1/2 hours from us, so they didn't have to see his drinking problem on a daily basis. I lived with him 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, and I experienced his drinking and everything that went along with it for years. I was the one who sat up at night worrying about him when he didn't come home. I was the one who went out looking for him at all hours of the day and night. I was the one who went into bars and night clubs at midnight or 1:00 in the morning if for no other reason than to take his keys away so he couldn't drive home. I was the one who made excuses to his friends and mine when we didn't show up to invited events. I was the one who experienced his anger when he had too much to drink. All his family knew was what I told them, and to protect them (and him) I hid a lot of what went on. For a time I felt like they thought I was exaggerating when I did tell them things. It wasn't until he had to go to rehab that I think they all truly accepted that he had a serious problem. I was also angry that I was here when Eddie died and they weren't.
I was mad at my own family for a time, though I don't really know why. All they ever did was be there for me and support me. But they were also closer to the situation than Eddie's family was. They knew more what I lived with and what I put up with. They were more realistic and honest about what was going on. I think in a way it made me angry that I couldn't hide things from them. Despite everything, I always wanted to defend and protect Eddie, and I couldn't do that easily with my family. After his death, for some reason that I'll never understand, their support and protection made me angry for awhile.
I was also mad at myself after Eddie's death. I was angry that I hadn't been able to do more to help him with his drinking problem. I was angry that I hadn't gone out looking for him the night he died. I felt guilty that I hadn't told him I loved him before he left that evening. I felt regret over all of the unresolved issues that we would never have a chance to address. I was angry that I had lost control of my own life and was having such difficulty moving forward or even functioning at this point.
Finally I was mad at God. We're not supposed to admit that are we? I wanted to know where He was the night Eddie died. I wanted to know why He allowed this to happen to our family. I thought He was in control of everything, so I felt like He could have prevented this. It was the preacher who helped me realize that it's OK to be angry with God, as long as you admit your anger to Him and ask Him to help you through it. Anger at God does not mean a lack of faith, it is just one more way that we respond to our loss. In the Bible Job was angry at God for all that happened to him that he felt was unfair. He expressed his anger many times ... "Therefore I will not keep silent; I will speak out in the anguish of my spirit, I will complain in the bitterness of my soul" (Job 7:11); "I loathe my very life, therefore I will give free rein to my complaint and speak out in the bitterness of my soul. I will say to God, Do not condemn me, but tell me what charges you have against me" (Job 10:1-2). Anger with God can also be found in many Psalm verses ... "How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart? How long will my enemy triumph over me?" (Psalm 13:1-2); "My God, my God why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from saving me and so far from the words of my groaning? O my God, I cry out by day, but you do not answer" (Psalm 22:1-2). I had to accept that it was OK for me to be angry with God too...
Angry at God
I told God I was angry,
I thought He'd be surprised.
I thought I'd kept hostility
quite cleverly disguised.
I told the Lord I hate Him.
I told Him that I hurt.
I told Him that He isn't fair,
He's treated me like dirt.
I told God I was angry
but I'm the one surprised.
"What I've known all along," He said,
"you've finally realized."
"At last you have admitted
what's really in your heart,
Dishonesty, not anger
was keeping us apart.
"Even when you hate Me
I don't stop loving you.
Before you can receive that love
you must confess what's true."
"In telling Me the anger
you genuinely feel,
it loses power over you,
permitting you to heal."
I told God I was sorry
And He's forgiven me.
The truth that I was angry
Has finally set me free.
-Jessica Shaver (Angry at God, an excerpt from Under His Wings, by Patsy Claremont)
Once I started counseling sessions and visits with the preacher I had to admit and explore my feelings of anger. I learned from them as well as from my reading that anger is a normal response to the loss of a loved one, and that holding it in, not expressing it can lead to depression. It is a natural reaction and sometimes appears suddenly. It can be expressed outwardly or through withdrawal, and is usually related to what we see as the unfairness of the death. Our anger may be misplaced or misdirected because we are looking for someone to blame, and if we are completely honest we want someone to "pay" for what happened.
I've always known that anger was a step in the grieving process, but I never knew for sure who you were supposed to get mad at. I assumed it was the person who died - you should get mad at them for leaving - but my anger wasn't directed at Eddie. I tried to make myself mad at him - after all he abandoned me by choice. But every time I tried all I could do was picture him on the side of the road, at night, in the rain, alone, feeling so desperate that he felt his only solution was to end his own life, so I only felt pain and heartache. My feelings of anger toward him never developed. They did develop towards everyone else though.
I was mad at Eddie's family for a time. They all lived anywhere from 2 - 4 1/2 hours from us, so they didn't have to see his drinking problem on a daily basis. I lived with him 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, and I experienced his drinking and everything that went along with it for years. I was the one who sat up at night worrying about him when he didn't come home. I was the one who went out looking for him at all hours of the day and night. I was the one who went into bars and night clubs at midnight or 1:00 in the morning if for no other reason than to take his keys away so he couldn't drive home. I was the one who made excuses to his friends and mine when we didn't show up to invited events. I was the one who experienced his anger when he had too much to drink. All his family knew was what I told them, and to protect them (and him) I hid a lot of what went on. For a time I felt like they thought I was exaggerating when I did tell them things. It wasn't until he had to go to rehab that I think they all truly accepted that he had a serious problem. I was also angry that I was here when Eddie died and they weren't.
I was mad at my own family for a time, though I don't really know why. All they ever did was be there for me and support me. But they were also closer to the situation than Eddie's family was. They knew more what I lived with and what I put up with. They were more realistic and honest about what was going on. I think in a way it made me angry that I couldn't hide things from them. Despite everything, I always wanted to defend and protect Eddie, and I couldn't do that easily with my family. After his death, for some reason that I'll never understand, their support and protection made me angry for awhile.
I was also mad at myself after Eddie's death. I was angry that I hadn't been able to do more to help him with his drinking problem. I was angry that I hadn't gone out looking for him the night he died. I felt guilty that I hadn't told him I loved him before he left that evening. I felt regret over all of the unresolved issues that we would never have a chance to address. I was angry that I had lost control of my own life and was having such difficulty moving forward or even functioning at this point.
Finally I was mad at God. We're not supposed to admit that are we? I wanted to know where He was the night Eddie died. I wanted to know why He allowed this to happen to our family. I thought He was in control of everything, so I felt like He could have prevented this. It was the preacher who helped me realize that it's OK to be angry with God, as long as you admit your anger to Him and ask Him to help you through it. Anger at God does not mean a lack of faith, it is just one more way that we respond to our loss. In the Bible Job was angry at God for all that happened to him that he felt was unfair. He expressed his anger many times ... "Therefore I will not keep silent; I will speak out in the anguish of my spirit, I will complain in the bitterness of my soul" (Job 7:11); "I loathe my very life, therefore I will give free rein to my complaint and speak out in the bitterness of my soul. I will say to God, Do not condemn me, but tell me what charges you have against me" (Job 10:1-2). Anger with God can also be found in many Psalm verses ... "How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart? How long will my enemy triumph over me?" (Psalm 13:1-2); "My God, my God why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from saving me and so far from the words of my groaning? O my God, I cry out by day, but you do not answer" (Psalm 22:1-2). I had to accept that it was OK for me to be angry with God too...
Angry at God
I told God I was angry,
I thought He'd be surprised.
I thought I'd kept hostility
quite cleverly disguised.
I told the Lord I hate Him.
I told Him that I hurt.
I told Him that He isn't fair,
He's treated me like dirt.
I told God I was angry
but I'm the one surprised.
"What I've known all along," He said,
"you've finally realized."
"At last you have admitted
what's really in your heart,
Dishonesty, not anger
was keeping us apart.
"Even when you hate Me
I don't stop loving you.
Before you can receive that love
you must confess what's true."
"In telling Me the anger
you genuinely feel,
it loses power over you,
permitting you to heal."
I told God I was sorry
And He's forgiven me.
The truth that I was angry
Has finally set me free.
-Jessica Shaver (Angry at God, an excerpt from Under His Wings, by Patsy Claremont)
Friday, May 27, 2011
It Takes Time
I have to admit that I was disappointed with my first counseling session. I don't know exactly what I expected to get out of it (wishful thinking was that I would be "cured" after one visit), but I left thinking that I wouldn't go back. Part of the problem was that I didn't feel comfortable with the counselor. I'm sure he was good at what he did, but he wasn't right for me. When I shared this with one of my friends she told me not to give up but to try someone else. It never occured to me that I might have to look around for the right person. I guess I just assumed that all counselors were basically the same. I called the counseling center again and asked to see someone different. I was more specific this time about what I had been through and what I was looking for. I specifically asked for someone who had personal experience with death and grieving, though it didn't have to be suicide, and I requested a female. If counseling is going to be beneficial, you have to be willing to be totally honest, to bare your heart and soul, and you can't do this with someone you aren't comfortable with. Finding the right counselor is just like finding the right outfit or pair of shoes - you have to shop around and find the one that fits.
Thankfully the next time I went for a session I knew immediately I had found the right person. She had lost her own husband in a tragic accident several years earlier, and I could tell right away that she understood how I was feeling. I was very comfortable talking to her right from the start. As expected our first session was filled with a lot of tears. I did most of the talking while the counselor sat and listened. I was surprised at how easy it was to tell her the whole story. I realized that in some ways it was easier to talk to this stranger than it was to talk to my own family. She didn't know Eddie or me so there were no opinions about either of us one way or the other. I felt safe sitting in her office and was actually disappointed when our time ended. I had barely begun to tell her everything I wanted to share. This time there was no question that I would be going back.
In addition to the counselor I also started seeing the preacher around the same time. I hadn't been comfortable with the male at the counseling center, but I was surprised to find that I was very comfortable with this man. He was kind, caring, understanding, compassionate, yet objective at the same time. Just like the counselor, he didn't know Eddie or me so I didn't have a problem being honest with him about everything. I could tell he was going to bring a different perspective to the situation than the counselor, but I felt that between the two of them I was going to get what I needed to help me through this process of grieving. My only regret was that it wasn't going to happen faster.
I continued reading the books I had bought and found out one very important thing - contrary to what I thought, I wasn't going crazy! I learned that exhaustion, distraction, denial, anger, physical symptoms, withdrawal, and fear (just to name a few) are all a part of grief. Though I felt like I was alone, the only one to ever feel this way, I wasn't. Everyone who loses a loved one, regardless of the circumstances, has these same feelings in varying degrees and for different lengths of time. Grief isn't just something for us to get through, it is like an injury or a sickness - we have to take the time to heal. There was that word again - TIME - I had to accept that I wasn't going to find a way to rsh through this.
"To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant and a time to pluck what is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to gain, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to throw away; a time to tear, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace." Ecclesiastes 3:1-8
Thankfully the next time I went for a session I knew immediately I had found the right person. She had lost her own husband in a tragic accident several years earlier, and I could tell right away that she understood how I was feeling. I was very comfortable talking to her right from the start. As expected our first session was filled with a lot of tears. I did most of the talking while the counselor sat and listened. I was surprised at how easy it was to tell her the whole story. I realized that in some ways it was easier to talk to this stranger than it was to talk to my own family. She didn't know Eddie or me so there were no opinions about either of us one way or the other. I felt safe sitting in her office and was actually disappointed when our time ended. I had barely begun to tell her everything I wanted to share. This time there was no question that I would be going back.
In addition to the counselor I also started seeing the preacher around the same time. I hadn't been comfortable with the male at the counseling center, but I was surprised to find that I was very comfortable with this man. He was kind, caring, understanding, compassionate, yet objective at the same time. Just like the counselor, he didn't know Eddie or me so I didn't have a problem being honest with him about everything. I could tell he was going to bring a different perspective to the situation than the counselor, but I felt that between the two of them I was going to get what I needed to help me through this process of grieving. My only regret was that it wasn't going to happen faster.
I continued reading the books I had bought and found out one very important thing - contrary to what I thought, I wasn't going crazy! I learned that exhaustion, distraction, denial, anger, physical symptoms, withdrawal, and fear (just to name a few) are all a part of grief. Though I felt like I was alone, the only one to ever feel this way, I wasn't. Everyone who loses a loved one, regardless of the circumstances, has these same feelings in varying degrees and for different lengths of time. Grief isn't just something for us to get through, it is like an injury or a sickness - we have to take the time to heal. There was that word again - TIME - I had to accept that I wasn't going to find a way to rsh through this.
"To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant and a time to pluck what is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to gain, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to throw away; a time to tear, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace." Ecclesiastes 3:1-8
Thursday, May 26, 2011
A New Plan
I survived the weekend after my total meltdown, then made arrangements to take medical leave for the remainder of the school year. Thankfully my doctor was more than willing to fill out the necessary paperwork for me. I still have a copy of it - he cited the reasons as anxiety, panic attacks, and depression. I never thought I would see those words written or hear them said about me. I hated to leave my students. I don't like giving up or quitting anything, but I didn't feel as if I had anything left to give them. I truly did not think they would benefit from my being there in the shape I was in. At this point it was all I could do to put one foot in front of the other each day. I still wasn't sleeping more than a couple of hours each night, so I was exhausted before I ever got started each morning. There was no way I could successfully teach a class of 9 and 10 year olds for the next 5 weeks.
Once this was taken care of, I decided it was time for a new plan. I did not want to grieve, but if I had to then I was going to do it RIGHT (ha ha). I went to the book store and bought several books on both suicide and grief. I called a counseling center and made an appointment to see someone as soon as possible. One of my friends told me about the pastor of a small church near me who had recently helped her through a difficult time. He had just completed his counseling degree, so I called and made an appointment to see him too. With all of this help, surely I would be able to get myself straightened out soon!
The first thing I learned from one of the books I had bought was that there is no "right" or "correct" way to grieve. Everyone's grief is different, and everyone handles grief in their own way. There is no time frame for getting past a death. You never truly get over a death - you just learn to cope with it - and tragic deaths are usually more difficult to recover from. I had been right about the stages of the grieving process, but I was wrong in thinking that you went through them in order or that you could devote a specific amount of time to each. Some people move through the stages more quickly than others, people go back and forth between the stages, sometimes people experience more than one stage at a time, and sometimes the beginning stages come back (shock, denial) months or even years later. I did not like what I was reading! I wanted this to be done quickly and according to a plan.
The good part of what I read was that I wasn't alone in the way I was feeling. Though these feelings weren't "normal" under everyday circumstances, they were "normal" for someone grieving the loss of a loved one. I also learned that whatever I was feeling at the time was OK - there was no reason for me to be guilty about the feelings I was having. One book said that a person who has just experienced a death, especially a tragic one, should treat themself as if they were in "intensive care". It said first and foremost I had to take care of myself, admit that I needed help, and let others do things for me (which I knew wouldn't be easy for me). I was willing to try anything though if it meant beginning to move forward with the healing process.
"But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary; they will walk and not be faint." Isaiah 40:31
Once this was taken care of, I decided it was time for a new plan. I did not want to grieve, but if I had to then I was going to do it RIGHT (ha ha). I went to the book store and bought several books on both suicide and grief. I called a counseling center and made an appointment to see someone as soon as possible. One of my friends told me about the pastor of a small church near me who had recently helped her through a difficult time. He had just completed his counseling degree, so I called and made an appointment to see him too. With all of this help, surely I would be able to get myself straightened out soon!
The first thing I learned from one of the books I had bought was that there is no "right" or "correct" way to grieve. Everyone's grief is different, and everyone handles grief in their own way. There is no time frame for getting past a death. You never truly get over a death - you just learn to cope with it - and tragic deaths are usually more difficult to recover from. I had been right about the stages of the grieving process, but I was wrong in thinking that you went through them in order or that you could devote a specific amount of time to each. Some people move through the stages more quickly than others, people go back and forth between the stages, sometimes people experience more than one stage at a time, and sometimes the beginning stages come back (shock, denial) months or even years later. I did not like what I was reading! I wanted this to be done quickly and according to a plan.
The good part of what I read was that I wasn't alone in the way I was feeling. Though these feelings weren't "normal" under everyday circumstances, they were "normal" for someone grieving the loss of a loved one. I also learned that whatever I was feeling at the time was OK - there was no reason for me to be guilty about the feelings I was having. One book said that a person who has just experienced a death, especially a tragic one, should treat themself as if they were in "intensive care". It said first and foremost I had to take care of myself, admit that I needed help, and let others do things for me (which I knew wouldn't be easy for me). I was willing to try anything though if it meant beginning to move forward with the healing process.
"But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary; they will walk and not be faint." Isaiah 40:31
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Losing Control
As far back as I can remember I've always been a very independent person. I like to take care of things myself without asking others for help. For the most part I've always seen myself as being strong, in control, and able to handle most situations. So what was happening now? Why did I suddenly feel so weak? Why did I feel as if I had lost control of everything in my life? It was hard enough for me to understand that I hadn't been able to help Eddie with his drinking problem. It was even more difficult for me to believe that I hadn't seen the signs or found a way to prevent him from taking his own life. It was almost impossible for me to accept that I hadn't been in control after all. This was all so different from anything I had ever experienced, and for the first time in my life I had no idea how to handle something.
As it came close to the time I had planned to return to work I began to realize I wasn't ready. Thankfully my principal agreed to let me return the first week after spring break for half days. That way I could be there to administer the CRCT to my class, ease myself back into working, and hopefully work my way up to full days the following week. I have worked in the same school for over 20 years - everyone there was like a second family to me. But the first day I returned I felt like a stranger in an unknown place. I knew all of the people - faculty, staff, students - but I didn't feel like I belonged there with them. I was self conscious walking down the hall, wondering what people were thinking as they saw me. No one said or did anything to make me feel this way. Everyone was caring and supportive just as they had always been. I was the one who had changed.
Instead of gaining strength as the week went on, I felt weaker and less in control every day. I tried not to let it show as long as I was at school. I waited until I left each day to "fall apart". By the time I left Friday afternoon I knew I wouldn't be back on Monday. I went out to eat that night with my mother, father, and granddaughter. As we left the restaurant what little strength and control I had been holding on to completely disappeared. The wall that had been around me protecting me the week of Eddie's death had crumbled. The numbness I felt that week was gone, and I had never experienced the type of pain I was now feeling.
I went straight to bed when I got home. Not because I thought I could sleep, but because I didn't have the energy or desire to do anything else. That night I cried like I've never cried before in my life. I reached a point where I wondered how I could possibly have any more tears left in me, but still I cried. In addition to the crying, I started to experience feelings of panic. I was terrified that I was slipping into a state of depression that I wouldn't be able to get out of. I tried to read devotionals and the Bible, but I couldn't. I tried to pray, but couldn't. I had that same feeling I had in the car the night I found out Eddie had died - I felt like God had abandoned me ... but why?
"For I know the plans I have for you declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me, and I will listen to you." Jeremiah 29:11-12
As it came close to the time I had planned to return to work I began to realize I wasn't ready. Thankfully my principal agreed to let me return the first week after spring break for half days. That way I could be there to administer the CRCT to my class, ease myself back into working, and hopefully work my way up to full days the following week. I have worked in the same school for over 20 years - everyone there was like a second family to me. But the first day I returned I felt like a stranger in an unknown place. I knew all of the people - faculty, staff, students - but I didn't feel like I belonged there with them. I was self conscious walking down the hall, wondering what people were thinking as they saw me. No one said or did anything to make me feel this way. Everyone was caring and supportive just as they had always been. I was the one who had changed.
Instead of gaining strength as the week went on, I felt weaker and less in control every day. I tried not to let it show as long as I was at school. I waited until I left each day to "fall apart". By the time I left Friday afternoon I knew I wouldn't be back on Monday. I went out to eat that night with my mother, father, and granddaughter. As we left the restaurant what little strength and control I had been holding on to completely disappeared. The wall that had been around me protecting me the week of Eddie's death had crumbled. The numbness I felt that week was gone, and I had never experienced the type of pain I was now feeling.
I went straight to bed when I got home. Not because I thought I could sleep, but because I didn't have the energy or desire to do anything else. That night I cried like I've never cried before in my life. I reached a point where I wondered how I could possibly have any more tears left in me, but still I cried. In addition to the crying, I started to experience feelings of panic. I was terrified that I was slipping into a state of depression that I wouldn't be able to get out of. I tried to read devotionals and the Bible, but I couldn't. I tried to pray, but couldn't. I had that same feeling I had in the car the night I found out Eddie had died - I felt like God had abandoned me ... but why?
"For I know the plans I have for you declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me, and I will listen to you." Jeremiah 29:11-12
Monday, May 23, 2011
Drifting ...
I pretty much just drifted through the next few weeks. Where I remember every detail of the week of Eddie's death, these weeks are a blur to me. One day ran into the next, and the nights seemed to last forever. I slept very little, maybe a couple of hours off and on each night. I was exhausted during the day, but when I tried to sleep my mind wouldn't "turn off". I know I had phone calls, cards, and visits from friends and family during this time. My friends from school checked on me often, brought me meals, took me out to eat, or invited me to their house. I went because I didn't want to be rude, and I knew I needed to get out of the house. I really appreciated their efforts, but I was just going through the motions. Whenever we would go to a restaurant after a short time I would start to feel as if the crowd and the walls were closing in on me. I wanted to ask the people around me how they could be sitting there talking, laughing, and enjoying their meals. I couldn't believe the world was going on as if nothing had happened ... my life had stopped, so why hadn't everyone else's?
I remember falling into a daily routine during this time. I was still getting many sympathy cards, so I would go to the mailbox each day, then take the cards to the front porch. There I would sit in the rocking chair and read the cards over and over. It brought me a small sense of comfort to read the words people wrote to me about Eddie. After reading the cards, I would try to read the newspaper or work the crossword puzzle in it while I sat on the porch. It always seemed to help a little to be outside, so I would put off going back in as long as I could. Unfortunately, I was never able to concentrate on what I was reading, so the paper proved to be a waste of time. Then I would go inside and turn on the television, but I had the same problem - I couldn't concentrate. I could sit and stare at a program for 30 minutes but not have any idea what was going on. My plans for getting through the next three stages of the grief process had disappeared.
I also spent a lot of time at the cemetery during these weeks. Each day that I drove through those gates I had that same tightness in my chest, and it would be hard to breathe for a few minutes. I spent my time sitting by Eddie's grave alternating between crying (yes the tears had finally come), praying, and talking to him. I asked him repeatedly why he had chosen to leave us, but I never got any answers. I asked God why He had allowed this to happen, but again I never got any answers. Somtimes I just sat and watched the other people coming and going in the cemetery, and I wondered if they felt as lost and confused as I did. Every time I left the cemetery I felt like I was leaving a part of myself there too.
"I tell you the truth, you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices. You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy." John 16:20
I remember falling into a daily routine during this time. I was still getting many sympathy cards, so I would go to the mailbox each day, then take the cards to the front porch. There I would sit in the rocking chair and read the cards over and over. It brought me a small sense of comfort to read the words people wrote to me about Eddie. After reading the cards, I would try to read the newspaper or work the crossword puzzle in it while I sat on the porch. It always seemed to help a little to be outside, so I would put off going back in as long as I could. Unfortunately, I was never able to concentrate on what I was reading, so the paper proved to be a waste of time. Then I would go inside and turn on the television, but I had the same problem - I couldn't concentrate. I could sit and stare at a program for 30 minutes but not have any idea what was going on. My plans for getting through the next three stages of the grief process had disappeared.
I also spent a lot of time at the cemetery during these weeks. Each day that I drove through those gates I had that same tightness in my chest, and it would be hard to breathe for a few minutes. I spent my time sitting by Eddie's grave alternating between crying (yes the tears had finally come), praying, and talking to him. I asked him repeatedly why he had chosen to leave us, but I never got any answers. I asked God why He had allowed this to happen, but again I never got any answers. Somtimes I just sat and watched the other people coming and going in the cemetery, and I wondered if they felt as lost and confused as I did. Every time I left the cemetery I felt like I was leaving a part of myself there too.
"I tell you the truth, you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices. You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy." John 16:20
Sunday, May 22, 2011
What to do Now???
After the constant stream of visitors and the non-stop activity that had come with the past week, I didn't know what to do with myself on Saturday. Just as suddenly as everything had started, it had now ended. The last of the family from out of town left for home that morning. There were a few phone calls from neighbors checking on me, a couple of friends came by to make sure I wasn't alone, and Trey, Emily, and my mother were still at the house with me. But compared to the last four days, it was extremely quiet and lonely. I spent a lot of time just walking around, both inside and outside, wondering what I was supposed to do next.
I knew life was going to be different now, but I was sure I could handle it. I knew I would miss Eddie, but I didn't think his being gone would be extremely hard for me to adjust to. After all, I had been alone many times before. Why? ... because Eddie was an alcoholic. He had battled the disease (and yes it IS a disease) off and on for many years. Just a few months earlier he had spent six weeks in a rehabilitation center. During that time we couldn't see or even talk to each other. Our only contact was through letters, and Eddie was never one for writing very much. Even when he was home, I was still "alone" much of the time because his drinking took him away from me. I had survived that, I would survive this too.
I had my plans laid out (those who know me know that's how I do everything - with a plan). I had been out of work for the past week. There were two more weeks of school before a week of spring break. I would take those next three weeks to get my life together then return to school in time to give the Criterion Referenced Competency Test (CRCT) to my class. I would be fine by then. That would be a month since Eddie's death. That should give me time to grieve shouldn't it? After all, I had made it through the first two stages of grief - shock and denial - in only one week. I could devote a week each to the remaining three stages - depression, anger, and acceptance. I could handle this with no problem - or so I thought.
When I Must Leave You
When I must leave you for a little while,
Please do not grieve and shed wild tears
And hug your sorrow to you through the years,
But start out bravely with a gallant smile;
And for my sake and in my name
Live on and do all things the same,
Feed not your loneliness on empty days,
But fill each waking hour in useful ways,
Reach out your hand in comfort and in cheer
And I in turn will comfort you and hold you near;
And never, never be afraid to die,
For I am waiting for you in the sky!
We part with our loved ones but not forever
If we trust God's promise and doubt it never!
-Helen Steiner Rice
I knew life was going to be different now, but I was sure I could handle it. I knew I would miss Eddie, but I didn't think his being gone would be extremely hard for me to adjust to. After all, I had been alone many times before. Why? ... because Eddie was an alcoholic. He had battled the disease (and yes it IS a disease) off and on for many years. Just a few months earlier he had spent six weeks in a rehabilitation center. During that time we couldn't see or even talk to each other. Our only contact was through letters, and Eddie was never one for writing very much. Even when he was home, I was still "alone" much of the time because his drinking took him away from me. I had survived that, I would survive this too.
I had my plans laid out (those who know me know that's how I do everything - with a plan). I had been out of work for the past week. There were two more weeks of school before a week of spring break. I would take those next three weeks to get my life together then return to school in time to give the Criterion Referenced Competency Test (CRCT) to my class. I would be fine by then. That would be a month since Eddie's death. That should give me time to grieve shouldn't it? After all, I had made it through the first two stages of grief - shock and denial - in only one week. I could devote a week each to the remaining three stages - depression, anger, and acceptance. I could handle this with no problem - or so I thought.
When I Must Leave You
When I must leave you for a little while,
Please do not grieve and shed wild tears
And hug your sorrow to you through the years,
But start out bravely with a gallant smile;
And for my sake and in my name
Live on and do all things the same,
Feed not your loneliness on empty days,
But fill each waking hour in useful ways,
Reach out your hand in comfort and in cheer
And I in turn will comfort you and hold you near;
And never, never be afraid to die,
For I am waiting for you in the sky!
We part with our loved ones but not forever
If we trust God's promise and doubt it never!
-Helen Steiner Rice
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