Wednesday's Woe - Depleted by Grief

Wednesday's Woe

Depleted by Grief

What is that invisible monster that swoops in and steals our energy when we grieve? When we are attempting to overcome a physical illness, doctors have always emphasized we need more bed rest.

Who knew grief would require so much out of us we often become exhausted and spent, such that it seems our bodies really do need more "bed rest" -- in fact, they seem to demand it.

*****

Tommy was in the middle of a big project downstairs last night and was working away diligently on it when he stumbled upon a box of pictures. He set it aside, and thought he would check it out further when he took a break. Later, he stopped and examined it more closely.

Inside he found pictures of Merry Katherine's First-Year birthday pictures, taking him back to those glorious days. When he finished looking and reminiscing, he found he had no more of that non-stop energy to continue to work on his project nor to wrap up any other of his usual nightly chores, so he came upstairs totally spent and went straight to bed.

*****

Dr. Catherine M. Sanders, a child-loss griever and psychologist, talks about this exhaustion in her book, Surviving Grief, expounded on by another grieving mother, Brook Noel (author of I Wasn't Ready to Say Goodbye):

Exhaustion
Perhaps the most commonly reported symptom of grief is utter exhaustion and confusion. In her book, Surviving Grief, Dr. Catherine M. Sanders explains

"we become so weak that we actually feel like we have the flu. Because of our lack of experience with energy depletion, this weakness frightens and perplexes us. Before the loss, it happened only when we were sick."

Little things we used to do without thinking, like mailing a letter, can easily become an all day task. Getting a gallon of milk can seem monumental. The thought of getting dressed, driving a car, getting money, paying a cashier, carrying the gallon, driving home-just these thoughts alone, can leave a griever hungry for sleep.

There are many remedies for exhaustion. People may prescribe vitamin combinations, exercise, eating well, staying busy and more. You are in recovery. Give yourself some time to grieve and let the emotions work through you. If you jump to stay busy now, or sidetrack part of the grieving process, it will only resurface down the road. It's all right to be exhausted and to rest. Take your time to heal.

Picture: Thanks to Google Images

Catherine M. Sanders, Surviving Grief...and Learning to Live Again

Brook Noel: I Wasn't Ready to Say Goodbye: Surviving, Coping and Healing After the Sudden Death of a Loved One

http://www.funeralplan.com/griefsupport/griefsteps.html

Minefield of Grief Bombs and "Functional Grievers"

Merry Katherine Prince

(By Tommy Prince)

Journal

2/26/09, Thursday, 2 a.m.

We're in Athens, Georgia (Angie's hometown, staying with my in-laws) helping my handicapped brother-in-law Rick who is in the Intensive Care Unit trying to recover from Aspiration Pneumonia; the family is each taking shifts so someone can be with him 24/7; Angie and I have the midnight till 5 a.m. shifts.

I got out a little today to go by Rick's business and talk to (our nephew) Curt and observe the goings on.  While I was there (Curt's wife) Michelle brought their daughter (our six-year-old grand-niece) Meredith by to visit her daddy.  

When she came in, she walked over and gave me a hug and put her arms around my neck.  I came close to losing it right there in front of everyone.  I quickly suppressed the urge to cry.  I quickly turned the conversation back to the business . . . .

Last night during my nap before going to the hospital (at midnight), I dreamed about Merry Katherine and that she was little, and (that) Nathan had hurt her in the Bennetts' basement. 

She came running to me and I grabbed her up and held her.  She said she was okay, kissed me on my eye, which smudged my glasses, told me she loved me and ran off to play.  When I woke up at 10 p.m.,

 

I sat on the edge of the bed and had a prolonged gut-busting cry that gave me a whomping headache.

As I mentioned earlier, (my 6-year-old grand-niece) Meredith had come up and hugged me (today); that (hug) set off my emotional insides that took me totally by surprise.  Every time I dream about Merry Katherine, I have always been hugging her and don't want to let go.  

When that little Meredith hugged me, she was the first little girl to do that in over 2 1/2 years.  I found myself wanting to grab her up and hold her forever just like in my dreams of Merry Katherine, which always mess with me for several days.  

I found myself immediately taking my hands off her as though she was on fire and I was going to get badly burned.  I used all my energy to suppress the intense hurt that was boiling inside me.

The lava flow of pain surfaced after the nap and dream.  The rest of the night and today, I have felt out-of-it.

Journal

March 6, Friday, 6:30 a.m. (back home in Tennessee)

I didn't sleep as much today as yesterday but feel pretty rested.  (We'll see.)  

I am astounded at how much deep hurt and intense sorrow I carry around inside of me.  

I don't have an awareness of it until something like what happened in GA suddenly throws me into an uncontrollable, deep, long, crying spell.  

(Having intense grief inside) is something like being an epileptic; you don't really know when the next debilitating episode will hit.  Like an epileptic, you do have some awareness of what kinds of things or situations might trigger an episode that will resemble a "throw-down" in wrestling.  These are the very things and situations you stay away from.

As a "functional griever,"* over time I have learned some of what to avoid.  

Tragically, I will always be tiptoeing through a minefield of grief bombs.  -->     

Now I'm beginning to see why fatigue and exhaustion (have) become such a prevalent aspect of daily life.-->        

These external minefields can easily set off the internal hurt and sorrow.  -->        

This (struggle to avoid emotional minefields) in turn requires tension.-->

 

This (tension) itself is tiring enough; -->     

   

Add the internal turmoil of dealing with losing your baby girl, -->    

  

And you have one wasted son-of-a-gun. 

*(Functional griever" is a term Angie and I have given ourselves that describes our life--yes, we can get up every day and somewhat function, but most of our energies have to be dedicated to processing our manifold grief, so we just call ourselves "functional grievers.")

Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome and Grief

My brother Rick is in the hospital tonight with pneumonia. Since I was a child, we had to be sure to get him right to the hospital if there was a chance he had pneumonia. You see, my brother is handicapped--he can't walk; he's never been able to walk, so he is in a wheelchair. Being in a wheelchair over all those years, (he is 58), Rick's muscles have gotten weaker and weaker, so contracting pneumonia can be extremely serious when he doesn't have the muscle-power to cough enough to clear his lung congestion.

By this evening after intravenous antibiotics, Rick is doing better, but isn't out of the woods yet (he's still in Intensive Care). He reflected back over the day with my sisters who have been with him since 8:00 this a.m. that he thought for awhile there he really wasn't gonna make it. No wonder my sisters had called me (I'm five hours away), tearful and frightened this morning. Tommy and I prayed intensely for him all day. I'm so thankful God heard and is answering all our prayers!

Having lost my daughter, I find myself getting traumatized when anything bad happens to someone I love. The possibility of losing them has become all-too-real to me. So my body and emotions fast-forward ahead to the worst possibility, and I'm there, fearful and grieving the worst.

Even though I'm a therapist, I forget that Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome can happen right along with grief. When I get triggered (like if one of my sons forgets to call me when going away, and I hit near-panic over the possibilities), knowledge doesn't seem to phase my emotions. Even though I might know intellectually that the odds are great he just forgot to call, my body and emotions are already traumatized, and there's not much I can do to undo them at that point.

Grief can be so complex and complicated. It is almost impossible to help someone else to understand all the intricacies involved with grief where one thing affects another, affects another, and so on. (I can't even understand complicated grief, and I'm living it!) Some days, I can hardly function when the grief has been intense; okay, I'll admit . . . at some level, that pain is always fairly debilitating; for it not to be debilitating is the exception.

That's one reason I'm so glad I can write during this time--doing something productive when just about everything else is "high" on the dysfunctional scale. Thank You, God, for Your creative juices to be flowing through me when I'm out for the count for much else.

But wait, isn't that how You always said it would be? 

"My grace is sufficient for you; for My power is made perfect when your power runs out."  2 Corinthians 12:9a

Move in and through me, Lord; I guess I am primed and ready for Your power to flow!

Parents Losing a Teenager to Death - A Glimpse of Grief After Two and a Half Years

“I not only live each endless day in grief, but live each day thinking about living each day in grief.” C. S. Lewis ...

My husband and I have been grieving now for two and a half years. Grief is so painful! I have to continually get in touch (emotionally, mentally, and spiritually) with my grief to get it "exhumed" from the inside to come to the consciousness and be expressed out so that it doesn't just build up (to later come out when I least expect it or to get expressed inappropriately). [I have a counseling practice, so I have to keep my grief flowing for this reason as well, or any unresolved "counter-transference" might affect my clients negatively.]

Grief without rest doesn't mix well. Grieving is exhausting work--I'm facing the deepest loss possible--every parent's worst nightmare--so it is not easy to do; it therefore takes a toll on my body physically. But rest, eating well, taking vitamins, exercising (which I am now starting to do a little more of), and anti-depressants if necessary, are crucial to supporting my over-stressed system. Talking to a safe person about my grief is also critical; for me, my safe person is my husband--he is very tender, patient, and accepting plus he knows the grief as well; he is going through his own! We try to support one another which works fairly well (until our timing collides, and we're both down at the same times. Those are times when it's especially important to have a close relationship with our Heavenly Father!)

Which brings me to--what helps me THE most in processing my grief--is the continuous presence of my Heavenly Father who is carrying me through this grief on a daily, moment-by-moment basis. One tool He has given me as I walk through my grief is to continually write out my grief -- in prayers to Him, poetry, essays, etc. The pain is there, but it is poignant in the writing, and then God's Holy Spirit comes into the process to bring His perspective and His comfort -- and His challenging my faulty thinking when appropriate!-- and there is a relief after the intense outpouring of hurt, pain, questions, confusion, etc. Over time, you can see the healing as you are writing, plus, the former writings continue to be a therapeutic tool to review and grieve through as necessary! I tell people, yes God is IN the grief; God is not an anesthetic to numb the grief--the pain is still there-- but He meets me IN the grief, and walks through it WITH me.

May God bless you in your grief, or in your concern for a beloved griever.