Getting your life and family back after grief takes over

Five years ago, with an irony that did not go unnoticed, one life was just beginning while another was winding down. During the early morning hours on a day in late September, my mother lay on the cool bathroom tile, moaning with pain…sick and pale from the ravages of chemotherapy, while 2000 miles away, I screamed out in agony as I birthed my youngest daughter- slick and red, screaming in her own right.

One year after my last child was born, my mother was already dead. Ovarian cancer had claimed her life in a mere year. While struggling to raise two young daughters and care for a dying mother that lived across the country, I had to go into a sort of psychological and emotional autopilot. Raising young children is taxing enough, but when you add the tremendous turmoil of dealing with a loved one battling cancer, it became almost overwhelming. But one does what they can to make it through.

After months of traveling back and forth to Arizona to help care for my mother, often for weeks on end, my mother decided that she was done fighting. She had bravely endured multiple surgeries, chemotherapy and was suffering from terrible edema. Her pain was severe and she was so very tired. In July of 2011, my mother entered a hospice home to die. During this time, I stayed in Arizona indefinitely and pushed away the guilt of being gone so long from my daughters. My family visited her every day and we laughed and cried and told stories. It was beautiful and horrible. My husband flew out with my daughters to say goodbye and my younger sister decided to have her wedding ceremony right there at the hospice home because she wanted our mother to see her get married. It was all so overwhelmingly beautiful and at the same time surreal. After the wedding, my mother started refusing all liquid food and water. And with the pain of her spreading cancer mounting, her morphine was increased so greatly that she slipped into a coma. She passed away in early August.

It was then that grief took over and it is only recently that I got my life back. My personal story is my gift to you, my lesson and my warning. It is also my gentle hug. Remember it and tuck it away for when you need it. Grief is not something to be ignored. It demands attention and will follow you, trip you and kick you until you pay attention. It does not go away. It is different for every person and it cannot be compared. It is not less or more.

Grief is the consequence of love. Grief and love are really the exact same thing.

For two years after the death of my mother, I was severely depressed. Only I didn’t act depressed. I lovingly took care of my two daughters. I drove them to preschool. I attended play dates, got my hair highlighted and did the grocery shopping. I called my friends on the phone and went to the beach to watch sunsets. We hosted family cookouts and my husband and I went on dates. I read bedtime stories and my family took vacations. Life was moving forward.

Depressed?

As a stay-at-home mother, I was in the company of my two young daughters for most of the day. They saw what no one else saw and for this I am ashamed. For this, I will explain it all to them someday.   Those two years of harrowing grief? I sobbed. I sobbed when I thought about my mother giving me her wedding ring while I cleaned up the breakfast dishes. I sobbed when I recalled my mom asking me to put make-up on her for her oncologist appointment because she still had pride in herself.  I shook with guilt and sorrow as I replayed over and over in my head how I had to say goodbye to my mom because all of my childcare options had run out. I cried out in agony that I was forced to say a final goodbye to my mama while she was still living. I wept uncontrollably as I printed out every single email I could find between my mother and I because that was how much I missed her. And I would drink wine at 5 pm sharp to dull my overwhelming sadness. This was my all-encompassing grief.

And then without warning, my grief disguised itself as anger and my life really fell apart. As the months passed, all of the guilt and sorrow transformed themselves into subtle but powerfully sharp shards of anger. And these shards of grief-anger showed themselves in a variety of ways. I started having unprecedented fights with my husband because he didn’t understand (seemingly in my mind) why I was still so sad. My sister and father and I got into a family feud that ultimately resolved but the arguments that occurred and the hurt that came could not have been at a worse timing during my grief journey. I single-handedly ruined a beautiful family vacation, a fact that I am deeply ashamed of and have since humbly apologized. I got drunk at a graduation party and embarrassed my sister. And I got into a big argument at a Thanksgiving dinner for no good reason at all. It seemed I was hell-bent on pushing everyone I loved away and I was aptly succeeding. I was sad and angry and no one understood what I was going through. I felt completely alone in my grief.

Slowly though, like a tiny paper trail leading me to the answer, I began finding my way back from grief. I knew I couldn’t continue on this ruinous path. My mother would be ashamed. I was ashamed. What happened over then next year I could only call my own miracle. Perhaps it was my mom intervening. I cannot say. But the series of events that happened next forever changed the course of my life.

One night, over two years after the death of my mother, I happened to be reading one of my favorite blogs on my iPhone. The piece mentioned a new author that just published a book about grief. Claire Bidwell Smith was the mentioned author and her book was called The Rules of Inheritance. She wrote about losing both of her parents by the age of 25. Within 5 minutes I had downloaded her book to my Kindle and was pouring over it. By the next day, I had read it and wept with recognition. The author had gone through her own years of self-destruction-sorrow and anger over the death of her parents and finally found redemption during her own grief journey. I gathered the courage to email Claire and over the next months, (Claire is also a licensed therapist) I finally realized that there are other people that understand the depth of grief I was feeling. Later that year, on Claire’s own blog, she advertised a yoga/grief retreat in Ojai, California. I had never done anything remotely like that in my life but in a moment of inspiration, I booked the trip. I knew I had to do this for my own healing.

At the retreat, I met 11 other women who shared their own profound stories of grief. Some of the stories were raw and fresh and some of women, never having dealt with their grief, were 20 years stuck in their sorrow. This scared me terribly, to be marooned like that in grief. During my days in Ojai, I fully gave myself over to the experience. We practiced yoga and had Reiki treatments. We meditated, breathed and healed. I left a boulder of grief on the hills of Ojai.

I was starting to heal.

During this same time frame, Claire let me know that she was also slated to teach a writing retreat on Orcas Island, Washington. A private dream of mine has always been to write books. My professional degrees are in the education field and my life was currently as a stay-at-home mother with limited time. Hearing this news and being a big believer in fate (and knowing that my mother had always encouraged me to follow my dreams as a writer), I signed up for this retreat as well. This retreat led to the creation of my blog and a fulfillment of my own personal dream. The retreat was magical and I heard stories and dreams and felt a creative inspiration stir within my soul. It was so very good for me and the fog of depression was further lifting. Upon my return, I began formulating an idea about a children’s book on grief.

I began therapy during these months, a step for me which was huge. For some reason personal therapy is very intimidating but I did it and with the help of a very kind and wise woman, I finally learned to feel compassion for the very sad woman I had been. I began working through the loss of my mother…a woman I had talked to every single day of my life, a woman who had been such a strong supporter of my dreams, a woman who had been the center of our family and my daughters’ Grandma Cherie-o. Through this therapy I started to gain wisdom about the grief process and I learned to be gentle with myself. I also learned that I did not have a lot of support in my life that was helpful and I had to accept this fact and forgive. I needed to make amends myself but also forgive myself too. And now? Now I have started to feel my mother’s presence in the good of my life and not just in the negative space. I have learned how to mother myself.

If you are grieving, please understand that grief is not going to resolve on its own. Seek out help with your grief. Seek out books or personal or group therapy. Step out of your comfort zone and attend a retreat! Nourish your body with healthy food and gentle exercises like yoga. Listen to soothing music and try your hand at writing…express your grief even if no one but you yourself reads it. Honor your loved one and allow the grief to flow through you. Don’t make the mistakes I made. And be very aware that grief sometimes shows up as anger. Accept that grief is a part of loving someone.

No one ever taught me about grief until I had to learn it the hard way on my own. I plan to break this pattern with my own daughters and I am committed to helping them learn how to grieve. I know that I cannot promise them that it won’t be painful, but only that there is a better way to do it. I want to teach them that grief is natural and can even be beautiful. It is at the very least, not shameful and does not have to be hidden in the dark shadows. Most importantly, grief does not need to be destructive.

I want to teach my daughters that grief is, ultimately, a profound reflection of their love.

[cta id=’2866′]