Grief – It Comes In Waves

Have you ever been trapped in the middle of a typhoon? Or a hurricane? –ya, me neither.

But, I can honestly say, the way I’ve felt over the past 48 hours; the thought of a typhoon or a hurricane sounds like a little more fun.

I’d like to think I’m invincible, stronger than I am, and almost finished grieving. Unfortunately, I’ve realized just the opposite over the past 10 days. I do a pretty good job pretending I’ve made great progress and I’m okay, but when I find myself in the middle of a storm, it ultimately sets me back further, and I am back at square one.

The events that led up to my 48 hour paralyzation are real, not only my grief, but anger for a close friend, helplessness for a close friend, sadness for a  close friend, the upcoming holidays, “1st’s” for me – 1st funeral on Friday since Ang, Cayla’s Senior Singing Tree – the first one without Ang. I know that the 1st holiday’s without a loved one are always the hardest; but I am overwhelmed with everything that is happening all at the same time. My anxiety is like the devil; challenging ever inch of my being; I cannot even describe how anxiety filled I am right now; and that doesn’t mean—hyperventilating into a paper bag; it means going about each day, irritable, uneasy, looking over your shoulder, breaking out in hives; for no particular reason.

1. I’d like to say F*CK METASTATIC Breast Cancer. I found out before the holidays that my close friend had nodules on her lung and it was confirmed the day after Thanksgiving that it’s Stage 4.  While no illness is fair; why her? Why her family? She does everything she is supposed to – to remain healthy & prolong her life.   Why does Mets continue to rear its ugly head and hurt non-deserving people & families. So young, with so much life to live. F*CK METS…….
2. I attended a funeral on Friday for a member from my golf course. She was a friend of my mothers, and we’ve know the family my entire life. This was my first funeral since Ang’s. I could’ve easily skipped the service, but that’s not the right thing to do; and I felt pretty okay until I sat down for the service. Amazing Grace played; tears flooded from my eyes the entire service. So many wounds opened. I hurt. I saw me sitting in the chair that Donna’s son was sitting in. I envisioned myself standing at the podium speaking about Ang. I saw Angie’s Urn. Angie’s pictures. I looked around the room and saw her friends. Everything about the service pulled out every ounce of pain that I was feeling. I pulled it together long enough to get out to my car and the floodgates opened. Will this ever stop?
3. My niece, Cayla, has performed in the Singing Christmas Tree every year during high school. This is a big “To-Do” and it is a 3-day event and the “World’s Largest” Singing Christmas Tree. This year is Cayla’s senior year, and was the first performance that my sister has not attended. I do not know what’s gotten into me, but I sobbed all the way to the Frauenthal to watch her performance. I pulled it together. then as soon as I saw her in the tree, smiling beautifully, I began sobbing and couldn’t stop. I was so proud of her, but yet was so sad that she didn’t have her mom or dad there. Once I dropped Cayla off at home, the floodgates opened again.
4. I got home, curled up on my couch, where I remained, paralyzed, sobbing for 18 hours. My anxiety and my grief are making me very tired.  I’m tired of pretending I’m a-okay.
5. I know that I’m a survivor, I know that I am strong; but I’m not that strong and I think it’s okay for me to NOT want to be strong.  I also think it’s okay for me to hurt. Although, I don’t like hurting; but I know it’s okay. To be honest, I just don’t want “To Be”. Not only has this grief been excruciating, the 6 year roller coaster ride was just as painful.

I had one friend tell me to go be around my family—–that’s the last thing I want when I feel this way; my family doesn’t need to see this. They are hurting enough. Another friend told me that Angie would want me to be happy and not hurting; it’s not that easy. I do wish it were. I like to be in control of my feelings and I am not. That’s not ok. I don’t like how I am feeling at this moment.  I know people mean well and care; but it’s not that easy.

I hate grief. I hate the way it makes me feel. I hate firsts after death. I hate mets. I hate feeling paralyzed. I hate anxiety – it consumes me. I hate not being understood by the ones closest to you. I hate the holidays. I hate emptiness. If I could hate my dad for being the initial cause of ALL of this I would…..but hate is a strong work—I simply would love to see him one more time and cause him 1/16th of my pain with a friendly throat punch; but I’ll settle for another butt chewing at his “headstone” although I feel nothing but emptiness while I’m there and when I leave there.

Having my faith is what has assured that I’ve survived this typhoon; although I question it at times. If I walked through life without faith; I would not be here. I do know that I’m not alone and I hope that others in my shoes are realizing that they are not either. One of my biggest battles are some of the people that have been closest to me in life. They seem to cause me the most anxiety and anger while I attempt to process everything that this thing called grief has handed me. The lack of empathy is disheartening. Everybody’s grief and anxiety is different. Tell someone that is more fragile than a fine piece of china that they are acting stupid, being grumpy, never want to go out, are never fun anymore, are mean, “never show affection”, never wants to talk; the list goes on. Again –we all handle our grief differently, the daggers cause don’t help when we hit a wall and just break down. There IS a reason I am this way now. Grief comes in waves, and it has changed me. I won’t ever be the person that I was before. My goal is to be a better person, but I will not rush my grief, for anyone.