You don't "move on". Or move forward. You move with grief. I think of it as parallel processing. The grief lessens in intensity and domination of your waking moments, although it still ebbs and flows to higher levels during random moments, holidays, and important days. But it is a constant companion. The memory of your loved one is, as another loved one described to me, "etched into your heart", and the grief associated with loss never goes away and you don't move on. If you are fortunate, that grief informs you, changes you in good ways (makes you more loving, empathetic, open, non-judgmental, etc.), helps you learn to sit with your feelings and just experience aliveness in all its forms.
Showing posts with label grief recovery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grief recovery. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Monday, February 25, 2013
The Fog of Grief
I've read a lot about grief, aside from experiencing it. Talked a lot about it with therapists and group support. Heard different perpectives and personal stories. Couple thoughts.....one, it is a unique experience, no one person has the same process, and it doesn't follow predictable pathways or timeframes. Two, everyone seems to move along a continuum, through readily definable stages (more on this later). But it's not a linear process, you move back and forth along the continuum and I would argue, you can be a different points on the continuum at the same time, defying the laws of physics.....
For example, I might be doing just fine on the surface, feeling good about life and the future, and having warm memories of life in the past. Then, wham, I'll get hit with a flashback, usually around a traumatic event associated with Meagan's disease, like the stroke episode. It will generate a very visceral response, trigger all sorts of other memories, and in a series of cascading memories, send me into a very sad, depressed, and anxiety ridden state.
When you are in that state it is hard to think and hard to do anything. It's called the fog of grief. I become kinda paralyzed. Easy stuff seems hard. Procrastination rules. Energy to do anything significant is just not there. Then I start feeling guilty about that, because I remember what it was like to be efficient, productive, and proactive. It sets up a negative cycle.
One of the sayings at the Healing Center is, "be gentle with yourself". It's a good motto, and one I think about a lot. It's not an excuse, just a perspective. Time is a gentle healer, and forcing things does not help. Sometimes you just need to sit with your grief or sadness, and reflect.
For example, I might be doing just fine on the surface, feeling good about life and the future, and having warm memories of life in the past. Then, wham, I'll get hit with a flashback, usually around a traumatic event associated with Meagan's disease, like the stroke episode. It will generate a very visceral response, trigger all sorts of other memories, and in a series of cascading memories, send me into a very sad, depressed, and anxiety ridden state.
When you are in that state it is hard to think and hard to do anything. It's called the fog of grief. I become kinda paralyzed. Easy stuff seems hard. Procrastination rules. Energy to do anything significant is just not there. Then I start feeling guilty about that, because I remember what it was like to be efficient, productive, and proactive. It sets up a negative cycle.
One of the sayings at the Healing Center is, "be gentle with yourself". It's a good motto, and one I think about a lot. It's not an excuse, just a perspective. Time is a gentle healer, and forcing things does not help. Sometimes you just need to sit with your grief or sadness, and reflect.
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