Saturday, 31 August 2013

Grief, you shall not pass.... well okay so, just for today...

It's a slow and tiring day and another one that has caught me by surprise. I regularly decide to knock grief on the head - it's been 19 months after all. Yeah, I know grief has no timeline, it's different for everyone, it can't be rushed yada yada yada......

But on a regular basis I say "I'm done. Grief, listen up, you do *not* define me, you will *not* hold me back, I am better now, I am healed, I will *not* be a martyr to you." I mean it when I say it. Who wants to be in a permanent state of sadness and bewilderment? There has to be some light after 19 months. So I shake myself and say "to hell with it". What if I just accept that I am single and this is my life? Yes it's sad that he's gone and I'll never forget him. But what if I start here? Right now. Start fresh.

So I try. I briefly get excited by the notion that I can fix my financial problems by starting my own business again, working my ass off, taking the kids on holiday. The excitement lasts a while, I feel good, I feel Diarmuid would smile his approval. And then BANG. Out of the blue, no warning, no build up, grief comes back uninvited and throws me back down again, spinning me around violently not too unlike Gandalf doing 360s in Saruman's gaff. Grief is a sneaky bastard.

I'm tired. Tired of being tired, tired of being knocked back down, tired of being positive and having it fail fast, tired of constantly trying to re-invent myself. Tired of wading through molasses. I'll just have a quick lie down in it.

Grief won't win. I know that. But for now I'm just a bit too tired to tackle that monster again. The score for this particular battle, here and now, today: Me 0, Grief 1. Grief won this battle but I intend to win the war.


  1. Deb keep riding those waves. Tired of being tired I totally get but you're right you will win the war

  2. Hi Deb
    You're so right, grief is such a bastard.
    I like Kerry's waves analogy.
    Maybe we're like surfers riding the waves.
    Sometimes we fall in the water.
    Sometimes we feel like staying in the water a while.

    Sometimes I'm so positive I can hardly believe it.
    Then it all changes.

    Triggers for mood swings seem to come from all over the place.
    Recently I was on, and someone happened to have posted a track that was played at M's celebration of life. Out of the blue, that stopped me in my tracks.

    Or I might notice M's toothbrush that's still in the bathroom.
    Or the soft toy that she'd had since she was a baby, sitting on top of the wardrobe.

    Sometimes, I feel like I'm a child again, hoping that my mum or dad (who have both passed away) – or just someone, anyone – will come along and somehow make it all better again.

    When M was ill, there were times that it felt like I only mattered because I had to be there to look after her. After M died, it felt like I only mattered because I have to be here, to carry on and look after the children. But I want to matter in my own right.

    I've done it again - I've gone off at a tangent...

    Here - I'll throw a virtual rope to you, to try and pull you out of the molasses.

    1. That's so lovely Alan, thank you. Much appreciated.

      "Sometimes I'm so positive I can hardly believe it." I know. Me too. The memories and triggers (songs, toys etc) hurt for now but in time they start to make us smile again.


    2. You're welcome Deb.

      I know we're all fighting our own individual wars with grief, but in a sense we're walking on the same battlefield.

      As long as we're not all down on the same day, we'll keep each other going!


  3. Deb, I've never stopped thinking about you. I pray the good days will last longer and come more often. It really hasn't been that long, you are doing amazing, even if you can't always feel it. Just wanted to send more hugs from across the world. <3
    Judy (from the Dis)

  4. My hubby was very ill for two years before passing away in Feb of this year. I always thought that since my grief started before his death, that it would somehow be easier to get through afterwards. And beyond the first three or four months, for the most part, it seemed true. I missed him, but I really thought I was ready to move on. Then, a few days ago, I started thinking about him all the time and missing him so much that it hurts worse than in the very beginning. Today, I had a very short fuse. I was so angry for no apparent reason, at everything and everyone, and later when I couldn't get organized at home (wading through molasses is exactly how I've been feeling of late.) Anyway, it didn't occur to me until tonight that this anger may have something to do with grief, and that maybe I'm not ready to move on at all. I'm here because I don't think that anyone around me can help, or even understand any of this. I'm not sure I understand it either.

  5. Dani, thank you for commenting. I have no doubt your anger is a part of grief. Grief is not linear. There are ups, downs, diagonals and extremes. Some of the anger is justified and some is irrational - it's sadness that you (understandably) haven't dealt with and it comes out as anger.

    Give yourself time. It's early days. Frankly I think I'm just getting over the shock!


  6. I am so very, very sad. The last few days have hit me like a sledge hammer knocking me off my feet. It is over 5 months since my husband died after 91/2 months of illness. I had gotten to the point where I smiled at the pictures of him, but today I just cry. I want so much for him to walk through the front door and hold me for hours. I miss him so much.