Healing From Loss
HEALING FROM LOSS
by Robyn Fisher
Six months after my husband died, I had a vivid dream about a man who was not my husband. It was the first dream that I had remembered in quite a while, and for a brief moment upon waking, I was amused.
Then, I snapped.
“Billll!” I screamed. “Why am I dreaming about that guy?? Where are YOU?” I had officially entered the anger stage of my grieving process. Textbook.
We have all heard about the stages of grief: shock, denial, bargaining, anger, depression, testing and finally, acceptance. My husband died less than three years ago now, and I’m pretty sure I have gone through all of them, and not in any particular order. There are no rules. I’m sure I’m not done, either.
Right now during these times of pandemic and social unrest, grief flares anew as so many people are experiencing loss in profound ways: loss of loved ones, financial stability, normalcy.
GRIEF IS AN ILLNESS.
Knowing about these stages of grief can indeed be helpful. It’s good to know that in early, raw grief, feeling emotionally crazy is actually normal. After that dream, I realized I wasn’t angry that Bill had died, I was angry that he hadn’t come back to visit me. I noticed I felt abandoned and silly, and then I moved on. Mostly. It was that “magical thinking” that author Joan Didion so eloquently writes about.
But the truth I hadn’t known before is that, simply put, grief is an illness. It is a devastating physical experience, and recovery takes time.
When my husband died, I felt as though I had been catapulted onto the rocky crags of a cold, lonely seashore. I was broken. The wind had been knocked out of me, and I had trouble catching my breath. My temperature was off, too; I felt cold much of the time. My stomach was upset and I couldn’t eat. Then I was hungry and couldn’t stop eating. My joints, lower back and hands all tingled and stung as electric currents ran through them. I was tired, but couldn’t relax. Anything I set out to do, like gather ingredients for a meal, or clean a toilet, took a lot more time than it should have. Often, I couldn’t finish what I started because I couldn’t focus. I needed lots of naps.
HAVE COMPASSION FOR YOUR PROCESS.
Don’t listen to the people who tell you to get on with your life. You will get on with your life in your own time. Recovery, frankly, may take the rest of your life, and that’s okay.
It’s a cycle, of course. I start to feel better, energized even, then I do too much, then I feel exhausted again. I realized early on that a half-day’s worth of activity was all I could handle. If I did more, my body rebelled. I am much better now, but I still have to remind myself to watch my time and not schedule too much.
YES, YOU ARE HEALING.
It is a cycle, yes, but actually it’s a corkscrew. I may feel like I’m going round and round, each rotation like I’m back to where I started, but then I realize that, no, I am better. I am not on the same rung. And then I take stock. The pain of early grief has mellowed and I have more times of peace and happiness now. I am a little higher up on the spiral. This is progress.
I had an extraordinarily close relationship with my husband, and I miss the deep friendship we had. He was my buffer from the rough edges of the world, and I have come to believe that I was his too. But I know that not everyone has had that level of closeness in their lives. Doesn’t matter. Grief still shows up in its own way. It’s universal, everyone experiences loss, but it is also so very personal.
DON’T JUDGE YOUR FEELINGS.
I recently read an article by a young woman who lost her husband, but at the time he died, they were separated. He had affairs. Her loss was so personal and certainly different from mine. In a way, she experienced grief before he died, because she had lost the safety and love in her marriage when he was unfaithful. And of course, her community didn’t understand, treating her as a grieving widow. She struggled to mesh the world that her community believed she lived in with the actual world she lived in.
Even if your relationship wasn’t all you wanted it to be, you still grieve. Honor whatever feelings come up. Don’t judge them.
DO SOMETHING.
Don’t wait for inspiration, because realistically, emotional numbness might keep the muse at bay for a while. At least that’s how it has been for me. But it’s good to do something. For many people, working at their job helps them move forward in their lives and keeps a level of normalcy. That didn’t work for me. I quit my teaching job to care for my husband, and after he died, I was too exhausted to think of going back to work full time.
However one night, early on when I couldn’t sleep, I decided to fill out the paperwork to apply for substitute teaching positions the following year. I didn’t know if I really wanted to be a substitute teacher, but filling out the paperwork felt like something productive. It wasn’t a commitment, but it was a step forward.
I walked. A lot. I walked in my neighborhood. I went on hikes. And the big one, I walked the Camino de Santiago in Spain. I learned, for myself, that walking heals.
I joined a writers group and re-established my gym membership. I went to a local coffeehouse venue to see some live music. I did some of these things alone, and some with friends.
Just do something.
REMEMBER THAT NOTHING IS PERMANENT.
Good times are not permanent. Hard times are not permanent either. The idea of impermanence was extremely helpful to me when I was in the midst of anxiety or a despairing episode early on. I didn’t force it, but I knew it wouldn’t last forever and that I would get through it. I still return to this idea when I feel stuck.
If, however, you feel that your emotions or anxiety have become dysfunctional, don’t hesitate to see your doctor. I did so early on when I had trouble sleeping, she gave me some anti-anxiety medicine to help with the worst nights.
IDEAS TO HELP YOU ON YOUR HEALING PATH.
- Take time to rest every day. Just do it.
- Get some exercise every day too, but don’t overdo it. I like walking and yoga.
- Find a project. A scrapbook, a garden, a home improvement project.
- When memories and stories come up, write them down in a journal.
- Sign up for a class, or find a bereavement support group, or both. Something new. Nothing too demanding, but something to get your physical or intellectual juices flowing.
- Volunteer. School, foodbank, library, hospital, community clean-up, church. Channeling grief into giving back has been extremely healing for many people.
- Write. For me, writing has been the most effective salve. When I write, I move my consciousness into a place of observation outside of my emotional state. I started by writing letters in my journal to my dead husband. “Dear Bill.” Then I wrote emails to his best friend and his family. I wrote letters to my own family. When I look back on those letters and journal entries, I see that, yes, I am not in the same emotional place I was then, I am moving forward.
- Breathe. Take a few moments several times a day to focus on your breath and fill up your lungs.
- Listen to an audiobook. After my husband died, I had trouble reading because I had trouble focusing, but I could close my eyes and listen, or listen while I walked. If an audiobook seems like too much, try shorter inspirational podcasts.
- One last thing. Be open to the observations of friends and the people who love you and whom you trust. Grief is a self-absorbed state, and sometimes we need an outside perspective. Stay connected with your family and friends.
I can’t say how it all turns out for me, because frankly, I’m still in the midst of it. But every so often I look back and take stock in how far I’ve come, and have faith that I am on the right path, going my own pace. I am healing!
...Grief...what can we learn?
Until next time...
Lisa
P.S.
After Robyn Fisher’s husband passed away in 2017, she went on Pilgrimage to the Camino de Santiago in Spain, sold her home of 25 years and finished her forthcoming memoir, You Remind Me Who I Am: A Memoir of True Love and Lewy Body Dementia. Robyn currently lives in Olympia, Washington with her daughter, son-in-law and 3-year-old grandson. Read more at www.robynpassowfisher.com. She can be reached at [email protected].
The life philosophy of A House With Four Rooms suggests thinking of yourself as being four rooms: physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual rooms. It advocates for doing something daily for your physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual well-being.