A uniquely bothersome greif. LOH contest #235

A uniquely Bothersome Grief

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This was written for the contest here - https://peakd.com/hive-124452/@ladiesofhive/ladies-of-hive-community-contest-235

The question it asked was - How do you recover from emotional pain or grief? This inspired me to write the reflective piece below.

Emotional pain, which grief is, registers in the brain and body the same way physical injury does. Cortisol levels spike. This can cause inflammation, muscle ache, join pain, stomach problems and a host of other unpleasant symptoms. In addition to this the body reacts in the same way it does to feeling physically unsafe or hurt. Meaning that the ache of missing someone after they have passed, or the sting of unkind words is as real as the ache from a cracked rib or a scraped knee. And just like physical injury, emotional pain comes in many different kinds, and just like physical injury, the way to recover from it may vary pretty significantly to.

Note - what follows talks about my personal experience with clinical depression including suicadel ideation. As such, it is not an easy read. I fully understand if you don’t want to read past here. However ever, if you do read on, you can read knowing that the injuries are old and mostly healed. My life is currently awesome, and it’s been almost two and a half years since my last suicidale thought. I write this as much for you’re comfort as mine. I can write freely knowing that not dumping my emotional journey on someone unsuspecting.

Photo by Patrick Tomasso on Unsplash

Before I can talk about recovery and healing, I need to talk about the somewhat specific greif I’ve encountered, and an aspect of depression no one warned me about. If you’re not familiar with what depression is like, the easiest explanation is that it’s like life had the colour drained out of it. Everything is less vibrant, less flavourful, there is no joy, no happiness, no contentment. In my case I oscillated between rage and numb. Depression is also a lying asshole. It tried to convince me that the way it felt was how it always would be. That the numbness was the best case scenario, and aren’t you tired of it? Why even get out of bed? It convinced that any plans to make the future better were pointless. That any change wouldn’t fix a thing. It sucks, I’m better now. I got therapy, I got medicated I, with a lot of help from my amazing family and friends, changed my life. The unique grief I’m going to be talking about is what I felt when I came out of that.

The feeling of regret for the lost days. For the lost opportunities. For the damage done to yourself or others. For the damage neglect or anger did. (And I got angry sometimes.) The ache for what could have been. No one talked to me about it. None of the blogs from folks who found their way out of depression talked about it. And that’s part of why I want to talk about it, and how I recovered from it now. While I didn’t realize it at the time, my healing journey followed something rather similar to that of the five stages of grief. And as anyone whose been through it knows, it’s not a simple five stages like playing Candyland, it’s a wobbly lurching journey. It’s more like snakes and ladders, with insights that might help you along, and traps that might send you back.

Image by tswedensky from Pixabay

Stage 1 : Denial.

I wanted to deny what I’d been through. Deny words said out of anger(because often anger was all I felt sometimes, and it felt so much better than being numb. At least for a time). Deny the damage I’d done to others. To myself(I eat terribly when I’m in a depressive swing. Last time I put on almost 40 pounds and I’m still working on losing it). To my living space(why clean when you don’t even want to live?). Deny that I had lost a year. Partly because I wouldn’t admit I was sick.

The counter to this is to remind myself of the facts. As much as it can hurt, I must admit the truth of it to myself. I need to see what the disease did to me. I couldn’t process the loss if I wouldn’t even accept it had happened. This took meditation and talking to people. My mom was particularly good at not letting me deny what I’d been through. (And giving hugs when I needed them.)

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez 🇨🇦 on Unsplash

Stage 2 : Anger

Anger is always there, at least for me. Even now. Anger at world for not caring(even though many people did). Anger at myself for taking so long to get treatment. Anger at the sun for being too bright, at birds for being too loud. Anger at the world for moving on when I felt so damn wretched. The recovery here is to sit with the anger(I meditate) and let it rage until it turns into grief again. And then cry, and if possible, get lots of hugs. Also breathing exercises. I’ve got a couple linked at the end.

Photo by Arno Senoner on Unsplash

Stage 3 : Bargaining

This one’s different then the grief bargaining step. I don’t bargain with fate for a loved one not to be sick or pray to gods. I bargain with myself. At this point I’m fighting to keep the spiral upwards. I make deals with myself to make upwards process. No getting lost in video games until I’ve gone for a walk. No eating junk food until I’ve had the day’s worth of fruits and veggies. These are things to make me stay feeling better. It’s about making bargains that help the process.

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Stage 4 : Depression

Sometimes there’s bad days, days that feel like a relapse. There’s a fear that the good feelings, the joy and hope won’t last. They’re already gone like so much mist. That the tingle of happiness on the numb soul will just dissipate. That the warmth was a lie and everything is as worthless and pointless as in the worst days. This is easier for me to recover from now as I’m familiar iwht it. It’s not a surprise. Much like Denial, I need to remind myself of the facts. It’s a bad day, not a bad life. There are people who care, people who love you. And you do make the world a less shitty place.

Photo by Peter Robbins on Unsplash

Stage 5 : Acceptance

This is the hardest, and most important. Once I’ve accepted the loss of the time, it gives space to grow. The ability to let go of the pain and anger. And perhaps most importantly to look ahead. You accept what you’ve lost, you hold the pain, you sit with it. And you live so that it doesn’t happen again. And if it does happen again, it doesn’t take as long to get out. I’ve also had to accept that it takes time. It’s not a switch that flips where one day you’re not depressed. It’s more like coming in from the cold and lighting a fireplace. The room gets warmer slowly, and eventually it’s toasty and you can take the coat off. Maybe there’s even some tea.

None of these happen in a linear way, it’s been years and I still get angry. I still have bad days. But those bad days, and that rage is much less. I’m sitting in my home, listening to birds, and smiling. I woke up happy this morning. Something that could not have happened a few years ago. I wake up excited for the future, something else which could not have happened a few years ago. Despite the world being a disaster, despite everything that makes me furious and sorrowed for the future of humanity, I have hope. And that’s what healthy healing does. It doesn’t just build scar tissue around the wound or isolate the nastiness so it’s ability to do damage is minimized, it makes way for hope and joy.

Yes I did tear up writing this, I tear up easy these days. But I know longer just feel shitty about it, there’s a part of me that’s grateful to past me for enduring it. For having the strength to create the present I have now, even when she was so tired she daydreamed of taking an eternal nap. But she never did, she never gave up, and she wanted to so badly it hurt at times.

A final quote from Richard Rohr I want to share “Pain not transformed is pain transmitted.” When I was depressed I was a miserable person who’d last out. I’d bash people who were wrong on the internet, I’d lash out at family and I was terrible to myself. Writing things like this, letting myself turn the anger into grief, doing artwork, it helped. It processed it, it turned it into something outside of myself.

If you read all the way, thank you for reading. I hope something I shared gave you something you can use for your own growth.

If you are suicidal, please believe me when I say it can and does get better. Also here is a list of hotlines for around the world.
https://blog.opencounseling.com/suicide-hotlines/

For meditation I often use the app insight timer. It's free, portable and has a reasonably easy user interface.

And breathing exercises
I actually just use the ones here. https://www.webmd.com/balance/stress-management/stress-relief-breathing-techniques