A while back, I received the following email from a friend of mine, who is experiencing her own grief. With her permission, I thought I’d share, in the hopes that it might help someone else out there feel less alone/increase understanding of what people who are going through intense grief experience. Warning: it is dark, but real. Here we go:

Grief makes me feel all alone-does it make you feel that way?

-Nobody understands what it feels like unless they’ve felt it.  That’s how I feel.  People are all so kind and supportive and consoling the way I used to be pre-trauma but they can’t really, really, really understand it till they’ve lived it, can they? 

-Grief makes me feel out of control.

-It makes me feel detached, like these feelings too great to process are happening to someone else.  Or they’re just too much to deal with sometimes.

-It sometimes makes me exceptionally selfish where I WISH these events and associated feelings had happened to someone else.

-Grief makes me cry.

-It makes me cranky.

-It makes me quiet.

-It makes me angry.

-It makes me vomit-sometimes even in public.

-I don’t wish it on anyone.

-I don’t understand why these bad things happen in our world.

-I don’t understand why these bad/hurtful things happen to good or at least decent people.

-Grief caused by trauma also makes me understand why a lot of the people society judges negatively “are the way they are”.

-I feel like all the good I’ve ever tried to put out to the world has gone to waste.

-I feel like giving up.

-I feel like letting go and doing bad things I never would have done before.

-I feel bitter that “this is how the world has thanked me for the good I tried to do”.

-It makes me realize that I didn’t used to “consciously” try to do good, I just had a solid set of underlying morals and values that guided my choices and behaviours in life.  Many of those values are now either “edited” or just gone.  Few have stayed the same.  The things I have done since the trauma are what has made me realize that I used to do good (or at least) better things/make better choices in life.

-I sometimes still don’t believe/want to believe the trauma even happened.

-I don’t recognize the person I was pre-trauma.

-I don’t recognize the person I am post-trauma.

-I wonder if I’ll ever find a balance and find myself again.

-I feel tired.

-I feel scattered.

-I feel guilty sometimes, too.  Could I have prevented the traumatic event?

-It makes me want to understand the world.  It makes me frustrated that I can’t explain why this happened.

-It made me realize that life is short. 

-It made me realize that life is actually too short.

-It made me realize how important friends and family are even if I still am a bit distant.

-Grief kills my appetite.

-Once in awhile, it makes me want to eat chocolate.

-It makes me sleep all day sometimes.

-It sometimes makes me not shower for a couple of days.  Or even brush my teeth.  So…it causes depression?

-It makes me have anxiety attacks.

-It’s because of grief that I have to take drugs every day and sometimes to help me sleep.

-It gives me nightmares.

-It forces me to constantly work on getting better.  Many days, I feel like I haven’t made any progress.

-Sometimes a blue sky makes me forget, gives me at least a moment salvation.

-Grief has slowed me down in life.

-It has made me unable to tolerate stress.

-It has also made me stand up for myself more often.

No matter what.

Grief sucks.

Amen sister.

I’ve recently been mocked about my latest knitting project. I use the term latest loosely, I haven’t really knitted anything since Joey was on dialysis in Toronto. Kind of lost its appeal after it became less of a craft and more of a sentence.

That said, I found some old wool kicking around and decided to try my hand at a ribbed scarf. Problem is, after I got started, it quickly became apparent that the wool was going to run out long before the scarf was complete and I was way too unmotivated to unpick it and start a new project. (I can almost hear the stomachs of all you knitters out there churning in disgust…almost). Luckily, my friend “T” was there to problem solve for me. I bring you: the neck muff.

At first I wasn’t sure of whether or not I liked this idea either, but then it snowed today and I decided that I loved it. At first I was cold:

But then I rolled that sucker up and got cozy:

Take that Mother Nature! You too conventional wisdom!

K-Dub

I recently found out I have a Whitford bladder. Who’dve thunk that a name change would allow for the possibility of the adoption of your spouse’s physical familial characteristics?

Why is the size of my bladder the primary focus of today’s post, you ask? I had to go to the island for an ultrasound last week to make sure my girlie bits were okay. Although I’m still waiting for absolute confirmation, the tech told me that she didn’t see anything that would keep her up at night. She then remarked that she was impressed with my ability to keep vast quantities of urine in check. Or something like that.

The upswing of needing to go away for medical stuff is that it gave me the opportunity to visit Mel and Gary, who I haven’t seen for a really long time. It was fun, as always.

Speaking of adopting nonsensical physical characteristics, is it just us, or is Ted starting to look like Don King in his old age?

You be the judge.

K-Dub

In the last month or so, I’ve begun to sound like a wounded animal when I cry. Which, in a way, I suppose I am.

It is disturbing.

K-Dub

Unfortunately, that is not my goal for the year. My new goal is my old goal: to get as healthy as possible so that I can try my best to be happy. Sounds easy, but it’s hard work, especially when you’re miserable. Hence the lack of blogging. Trying to be healthy, yet allowing myself to be miserable, leaves energy for little else.

I’m gonna use that as a cue to sign off for now. What a cheater.

K-Dub

If my resolution for this year was to be a crappy blogger, I think it’s safe to say that I’m doing a pretty good job.

K

Pub quiz night = hilarity. Here’s this year’s coveted trophy:

Staci really outdid herself with that one. The event took place on boxing day and generated donations for the Powell River food bank. Nice work people; nice work.

Sister Sarah, Lisa, Brandy, and Tracy were the smrtest team in 2011:

But some of us like to ride coattails:

In my defense, I was on the winning team that lost in 2009, Joey’s team won in 2010 and I still have the trophy in my kitchen, and my sister was one of the 2011 champions. Is it possible to be smrt by association?

On a side note, I’m not sure which was a bigger hit: Staci’s trophy or Tracy’s vest. Only you can decide:

K-Dub

Here’s some memories of happier Christmases.

Me yelling “Look excited!”:

The present was not that exciting; it was a pair of earmuffs. But Joey was very obliging.

Joey riding some reindeer at his staff Christmas party at Arbutus Ridge:

Testing to see if he could still get an earring in after 5 years of not wearing one:

With Keltie on Christmas day:

With me on Christmas day:

At the tree farm with mom and dad:

Hanging Christmas cards at our apartment in Victoria:

Our first Christmas home after his lung transplant, enjoying the Bud and Sharon show:

Merry Christmas.

K-Dub

I went back to St. Paul’s yesterday. I had some movies that hadn’t made it back to the CF resource room after Joey died. I also wanted to see the CF clinic staff and drop off some treats for the people who have to be in hospital over Christmas. I’ve been having a hard time forcing myself to walk through the doors and Christmas served as a convenient cut point. It was hard, but I’m glad I went. I had a good talk/cry with the people there.

It was a weird place to go back to. That said, it was also a weird place to stay away from; I’ve been going there since I was 18. I know the hallways well. The chronically slow elevators, the familiar faces of the staff and patients, the view outside when you finally get to the floor where you are going. When the doors opened on 7 and I didn’t have to get out, I stifled a cry. Why does he have to be gone? I can’t believe this happened.

I’m glad I went back. The feeling that I had to do so has been looming for quite a while. I’m sure I’ll be back again.

Lucky for me, I then got to drive out to Coquitlam and have a lightening visit with Rylie and Brendan. We had a great time grabbing a quick bite, doing some last minute Christmas shopping, and horsing around in the mall.

Neigh!

Back in PR now to ride out the rest of Christmas.

K-Dub

Too down to blog lately. Have received a few nice emails from some of my peeps. Thanks for that. I appreciate them.

I think I might be the only person who is disappointed that the days are going to start getting longer now. Nighttime offers relief. Another day almost done; pressure is off, I made it through again.

Can’t wait for Christmas to be over.

K