Grief is exhausting
"Grief" by Cynthia Angeles
Grief is just so exhausting. Someone described it as living in two worlds at the same time. As soon as I return from the hospital after my morning visit to see my mother, I just want to go back to bed and sleep. Doing simple daily activities is becoming more and more of a chore. I know all the right things that I should be doing right now, but I am not doing them right. I know I should be eating right, but I have no appetite; I should be exercising or going for a walk, but I have no inclination; I should be getting a full night’s sleep, but I sleep fitfully and wake early.
I alternate between feelings of numbness and feelings of utter despair and hopelessness. The outside world seems surreal, dreamlike – not something I feel part of right now. I feel like I am existing in a bubble, where I can see and hear people but feel totally disconnected from them and what is going on outside the confines of my mother’s bed. I drive past shops, businesses, people, and marvel at how they can all carry on like normal while my mother is dying in hospital.
But most of all, grief is like a heavy weight pressing down on my chest, so that sometimes it hurts to breathe. My heart feels as if it is breaking with the weight of all this grief. It sounds like such a cliché to say this, but for anyone who has suffered loss, you will know that feeling of your heart being squeezed tightly, or the feeling of a knife entering your heart, or simply the dull constant ache, an aching void, is not cliché but a terrible painful reality.
Oh dear Marie you are in the thick of it, the most stressful part of this $#@% process of watching a loved one deteriorate — and there is little you can do. I find it akin to the waiting after a biopsy and before cancer surgery; you feel completely out of control.
You are right: Grief is utterly, completely, unworldly exhausting.
Please be gentle and kind to yourself. Drink as much water as you can, even if you have no appetite.
So many the world over are praying for peace and comfort for your mum and for you and for your family. I hope your mom feels some relief from the procedure yesterday.
Take Care.
Renn
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Renn thank you so very much for your compassion and your practical advice – I haven’t been drinking water come to think of it!
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Forget about the ‘shoulds’ – they are just whips to beat yourself with. Do what you need to do – whether that is spend as much time as you can by your mums bed, sleeping in the afternoon or eating ice-cream, do it – you are still in shock, still reeling. The ‘shoulds’ will become ‘can-do’s again soon enough.
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Oh Maire, your advice is wonderful and so gratefully received x
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let it out honey don’t lock it in .. it was the best advice given to me.. find a pillow and beat the frustration and anger out.. then go get a big warm hearted cuddle from your partner. Sometimes no matter what we do the helpless feeling is the worst feeling anyone can experience.
Sending a hug your way X
Sarah M
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Sarah – great advice from you..going to find a big pillow right now to vent into x
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Hugs to you Marie during this very difficult time. My Dad was buried on Christmas eve and I always wish he had left us during the summer months when the world seems brighter and our cares lighter. Get some rest and know that there are a lot of people here for you. xx
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Mona, I am so sorry you lost your Dad at such a significant time – I don’t even want to think about what this Christmas will be like for us. October was always my favourite time of the year, esp as my birthday comes right at the start, and Mum always made a lovely fuss about it, but now, October is forever tainted. Thanks for reaching out to me x
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Marie, I’m so sad to hear about what you’re going through, but glad you are writing about it. I lost both of my parents around this time of year, and this October in particular, I have felt overwhelmed with grief over how many people I’ve lost and how many I know who are dealing with mets or with their passage toward death. I have nothing pithy to say, really, except that I remember when my mom died, and how I felt like it was somehow incomprehensible that the rest of the world kept turning in its usual way, because I felt like I was existing in a parallel universe where normal rules did not apply. There’s something to be said for the old Victorian social rules of acknowledging that people need at least a year to deal with the heartbreak of such loss.
That goes double when you are having to bear witness to the miserable, painful passage into death of someone you love. My heart just aches for you, my friend.
Sending gentle, warm hugs.
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Oh Kathi your words just sent chills down my spine they so perfectly describe how I am feeling! Parallel universe is absolutely right. Thanks so much for your words of comfort and for your support – I appreciate them so very, very much xxx
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Marie,
So sorry to hear about the serious condition of your mom. The grief that you experience is extremely personal and because of your connection with her. What you feel as chocking and describe as feelings of utter despair and hopelessness, is the fear of futility, seeing our close ones suffer in spite of our best efforts to keep them safe and healthy.
The piling up of emotions can be overwhelming at times; so you must find a way to shed some of it. Probably living inside the bubble makes you feel them 24×7. Break free of the bubble you say you exist in. That way, you’ll be able to relieve some of the stress.
I will of course be praying for her with hopes that she responds to her treatment.
With my very best wishes for her and you.
~Somnath
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Can I help you in any way? I’m only a phone call away… Hugs
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aw my twister – thank you xxx
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Marie,
Go easy on yourself and this may sound weird but I think the best thing you can do is just go with it. I’ve found that grief won’t be denied–if you think you’re squashing it down one way, it will find another way. I also was surprised to learn just how physical grief can be. I’ve had that chest-crushing feeling you described so well. I also woke up some mornings after my brother-in-law died when I felt like I weighed 400 pounds.
Thoughts and prayers still with you and your family. Sending you all a big hug from across the pond.
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Jackie, I value your practical and emotional advice and support so very much – thank you my dear friend x
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Much Love and Ligth your way…
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Thank you so very much x
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So sorry. I know the feeling, and you verbalized it perfectly. It will seem as if there is a gap in time during these days, but the larger, most important void will be the one left by your Mom. I will keep you in my prayers. Stay strong, but allow yourself to grieve; cry, yell, and cry some more. Just think of her in the comforting, safe hands of God.
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Your words bring me great comfort Melissa and thank you so much for reaching out x
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Lots of love Marie, thinking of you at this difficult time for you all xx
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Marie–oh how I wish I knew the words to write that could provide you some comfort as you walk this challenging journey. If only there was a way to ease the burden of another’s pain–especially the pain of a sad heart. The amazing way you bless others with your life is a beautiful glimpse of your mom. My prayers are with you and your family.
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Dearest Kim, what a beautiful thing to say – your words have blessed me today – heartfelt gratitude to you xxxx
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:-(……xxxxxxxxxxxx
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Oh Marie, I’m crying now with you. Today is the fourth anniversary of my Dad’s death and is also my brother’s birthday. It is so hard, especially on my brother. I grieve right down to the core as your words penetrate and pierce my soul. Prayers continue your way, beloved Marie,
XOXO,
Jan
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Jan, my dear friend, thank you xxxxxxxxxx
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Marie I am so sorry for what you are going through; my thoughts and prayers are with you and your family. I do hope that you find comfort from the well-wishes of all your friends and supporters.
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I do so very much and thank you too for reaching out to me.
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Oh, Marie!
How difficult for you being in Malta when your Mother was taken to hospital. I am heartbroken for you and your family. I know how you feel. Grieving is physically debilitating. It hurts like you’ve been in a fight. James died 10 months ago, and I still hurt. Your words could have been my words. I still marvel at the normal activities of those around me and continue to wonder when/if I will feel normal and truly joyful again, not just pretending like I do most days.
Proverbs 3:5 “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding for He will make your path straight.” I know this is true and that my path is becoming straighter. I know God walked with James in those last moments, and God walks with me. I talk to God a lot. I’m praying for you and your family and your precious Mother.
Take care of yourself, Marie. I’m still not sleeping, not eating or exercising like I should. This kind of stress makes us more susceptible to recurrence, and I know James and your Mother wouldn’t want that for either of us. Lean on everyone who loves you, including all of us, sweet friend.
Love,
Brenda
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Oh Brenda, you were one of the first people I thought of and what you have been through and how gracefully and bravely you have borne it. You have been an inspiration to me for the past year and this has only increased over this past week. Thank you for your prayers and good wishes – they mean so very much to me and I gain strength and comfort from them xxxx
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Marie,
My heart is broken over this. I can’t say anything more than what our wise friends have already said. Do what you can, ignore what you can’t. Take whatever comfort you can in knowing you do have a tremendous amount of support from all over the world.
Sending love,
AnneMarie
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I will remember those words of doing what I can and ignoring what I can’t – wise and practical advice – thank you xxx
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Thanks for sharing … that is cathartic and your friends / readers have responded so lovingly. When our son died I could not believe how exhausted I was … I was afraid to express it. Then I read in some book or article that I was not alone … that helped. You’re helping others … and I pray that you experience some inner peace.
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Dear John, I am so deeply sorry to hear about the death of your son – I cannot even begin to imagine how painful this experience must have been for you. I am so also very grateful to you for reaching out to me at this time with your compassionate words.
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Marie, really sorry to hear the suffering you are going through. I feel for you as we’ve been through similar for the last year. I can relate to all the numbness, not wanting to eat, sadness, feelings of helplessness and hopelessness It is definitely like you are suspended in time. You see life passing you by and yet the energy, willingness or desire to participate has left you. But remember your focus is all on your mum and because of that nothing else seems important to you. However you have to remember to keep yourself well, she wouldn’t want you to get ill yourself. Please remember to eat and rest. The link below may be useful to you for getting some much needed sleep. You need to have your energy to keep going If you need to talk give me a shout, We’ll go get a gooey chocolate cake and cappucino somewhere,! Take care and my thoughts are with you. Also good on you for talking about it. http://www.rte.ie/tv/fourlive/2011/1024/sleepweekeatingyourwaytoagoodnightssleep160.html
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Marian, I really appreciate you reaching out and sharing your own personal story with me and for the offer of meeting for a coffee – will be in touch x
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In a small effort to comfort you or at least validate your feelings, I’d like to share two little poems with you:
Cancer
Mother, I would fold you
close to my breasts–
except I don’t have any…
And now the disease
that flattened my chest
is choking the very breath
from your body…
The Secret
The jagged edges of grief
tear at my spirit
they pull and snag
and rip and shred
Is there a secret to
surviving with
the fabric of my life
somewhat intact?
(excerpted from The Last Violet: Mourning My Mother, copyright 2002 Lois
Tschetter Hjelmstad)
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Thank you for sharing such personal poems Lois x
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Marie,
Reading your words here is really difficult for me because they bring back a flood of memories about when I lost my mom. I hope that doesn’t sound selfish. I have been where you are now. Watching the slow deterioration of someone you care about so deeply is gut wrenchingly tough. And you are right, it’s exhausting. All I can say is I’m sorry. I care. You are not alone. My heart truly aches for you my friend.
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I have a friend who’s going through a death in her family during these times. I always feel sad to see her cry and grieve over the death. But at the same time I know that she needs to get through the grieving process so she can come out of it strong. I hope you get through this painful stage as well.
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I am so sorry about your grief and don’t mean to be insensitive but you have posted an image of my original painting on your blog without asking my permission first. I just happened upon your blog today and was shocked to see my painting.
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