Overcome with Survivor’s Grief

 

I am overcome with grief.

Years before today, that phrase conjured images of messy hair, swollen red eyes, wracking sobs, and maybe even some wailing. And, while that might still be the experience of many, it is not, and has never been, my experience.

Grief is something I deal with daily. And then there are weeks where too much comes all at once. And I just don’t deal. I just cannot deal.

I am overcome with grief. Today. Right now.

For me that has manifested in hours of staring at the computer, scrolling, sitting in the garden, seeing things in my brain but not necessarily in front of my face. A few tears, many swear words, but mostly I feel like my mind is the spinning wheel when something is trying to load but just doesn’t have a strong enough connection.

‘Overcome with grief,’ for me, isn’t the same as grieving. Grieving is active. When I am grieving, I can be shattered, pissed, sad, angry, melancholy, denying, or feeling a little lost. And, to be honest, I’m likely grieving on every day of the week that ends in a ‘y’.

For me, being ‘overcome with grief’ means I am completely stuck, stagnant, unable to figure out what to do next. Mentally, physically, and emotionally.

That day is today.

I see that. I feel that. I’m not sure how to extricate myself.

But somewhere, deep in my brain, I remember learning that sharing my burden shifts my burden.

So here comes the (over)share.

I could go back years, or months on the grief train but, just looking at a few examples in the month of April, presents a pretty representative look at loss in my life.

On April 3^rd, my mother-in-law took advantage of medical aid in dying. She qualified based on a terminal diagnosis and took control of her own earthly destiny. Tomorrow is the celebration of life for a friend who died in January from metastatic breast cancer. She did not live to see her 47^th birthday. Last week was the one-year anniversary of a good friend who died from primary brain cancer. Our kids have been friends since elementary school. Last night, I drove ‘over the hill’ so I could spend time with a friend who has leptomeningeal mets and a pretty f*cking poor prognosis. And a few hours ago, I learned that a phenomenal woman, friend, and advocate had died after living with metastatic breast cancer for nearly 15 years.  

So, it’s certianly “logical” that I’m grieving.

But what do I do with that?

How do I parse that?

Who the f*ck wants to hold that?

No one.

Seriously, if you’re reading this and thinking, “Stace, I’m here for you,” please know I believe you but also know that NO ONE WANTS to hold that with me. NO ONE.

Hell, I don’t want to hold that. I want to toss it on the floor, have a tantrum and curl up under a blanket.

It is asinine.

If there are seven stages of grief, my heart and mind occupy each and every stage at each and every moment of the day. And, well before my heart can finish grieving one monumental loss, there is another one coming up to bat.

We hear a lot about Survivor’s Guilt. And that is a very real thing.

But today, I’m naming this space Survivor’s Grief.

That’s where I’m sitting today.

Thanks for sitting with me for a bit. You can’t fix it, but the company sure helps.

And, if you’re on your own little Survivor’s Grief island. Let’s chat. I get it.