A Monster called Grief
We lost my sister Kelly way before she died on December 24th 2016 age 43.
She was an alcoholic and the Kelly we knew and loved had died when she married alcohol. The drama created with this marriage kept her physically alive, for a while, talking and walking but a shell of who she was. ‘The Alcohol Invasion of The Body Snatchers’.
I always felt when we finally received the call she that she had died I would feel relief.. Every time I received a call from my mum my body would tense and I would hold my breath. My mum was just normally ringing for a catch up or to share the latest in a very long line of what had happened next in this marriage of Kelly and alcohol. However, in my paranoid defense, Kelly had been in hospital twice before and we were told she would not survive. So I think I can forgive myself for that.
Nothing and I mean nothing prepared me for the earthquake that shattered my soul on every level when I received that call. Nothing and I mean nothing prepared me to the intensity of the grief. I could not understand how in control this monster called Grief took over my body physically, emotionally and mentally. I struggled to function. Life felt so unbearably hard. There were days I wanted to take a sleeping tablet and sleep until I felt better. Before I hear the cynics say and yes there are some ‘I know its hard but she’s feeling sorry for herself”, I’ve lost someone it wasn’t that bad’. “She still has her life to lead’ I said those similar things to myself. Let me tell you I tried my hardest not to let this monster destroy my life. I dragged my self out of bed every day. I forced myself to be ‘normal’ in front of my family, especially my 7year old daughter who developed ‘a worry in her throat’ as she would say. She would not want to be away from me as she developed this worry in her throat that I might die. Just walking the dogs was overwhelming. What if I had to talk to someone? Would I be able to get words out without breaking down? Could I smile and say ‘Good morning’, what do I say when people ask ‘How are you?’; but I forced myself to do anything that made me feel a bit lighter about life. The grief was fucking unforgiving.
At times I would talk to Kelly and shout ‘Why” hoping for an answer. I would ask ‘Why weren’t we enough for you?’. If you were going to kill yourself why not do it quicker instead of the long torture we all had to endure?” I hated her and the selfishness that had become Kelly – the alcoholic.
Other times I would lay in bed at night, staring into the dark. The silence was deafening and sleep was nowhere to be seen. I would say to Kelly ‘hold my hand’. I was so desperate to feel her touch, her love just one more time. I wanted to hear her laugh and sing. We didn’t always get on but we had a strong bond, like an energetic rope that bound us together.
Why didn’t I tell just one more time she was amazing and how much I loved her? If you do read this Kelly, if there is a heaven, another dimension our spirit ascends to where you maybe free now of your demons, please know that you were amazing and God, I did love you.
Then came the firsts like a sledgehammer. Kelly’s 44th birthday, my Mum’s, my birthday, my husband’s, my daughter’s. It will be Kelly’s daughter’s 18th in December and of course the first anniversary on Christmas Eve.
My point of sharing this is not to talk about living with an alcoholic. That is indeed another story. It is to talk about my experience with grief because at times I wondered whether I was going mad. I felt life was just too hard. Surely grief can’t be this excruitiating? I have never felt lonely before until I experienced grief. I felt so desperately alone. No one else understood my pain. Even though on a rational level I understood – why would they understand? How could they understand? Grief is not rational and much of my thinking was irrational. I still felt resentful that they were happy and I wasn’t. I was resentful that everyone else carried on with their lives after the funeral and my life felt pointless. As I said it’s irrational. I tried to focus on the many wonderful things in my life. The grief won every time.
The physical effects of grief surprised me to. Exhaustion consumed me. This monster called Grief fed on any energy I had. I had aches and pains I hadn’t had before. Chronic headaches have always been a struggle of mine but this time they really went off the scale. This monster called Grief also teased me, which felt so cruel. In the early days there may have been a few minutes or so when the pain lifted and this monster would lead you into a trap believing I was feeling better only to then remind me not to be so stupid. Then I may go a few days and be so hopeful that this is it – I’m cured. Again another cruel tease from the monster.
What can I say about other people trying to help? I think everyone is well meaning and coming from a place of kindness and love. However, even though I think everyone comes from a place of love and kindness I could have quite happily poked a few people in the eye. Luckily my humour didn’t vacate my personality completely. Here are a few examples and this first one is 6 months after Kelly’s death. ‘How are you?’ I’m struggling today’ “Why’ It’s the grief’
‘What still?’ This is my personal favourite. ‘You must feel so guilty you couldn’t help her. Maybe that’s why you’re still grieving.’ (I know guilt can be normal but I certainly don’t feel guilty). The people who are silent, the ones that don’t ring to see how you are or even just a text. Or if there is a text or phone call they start by apologizing because they have been so busy. – I really struggled with that. Sorry I’m not judging just being honest hoping this will help others and help others to help others.
I did have some amazing support. People whom rung regularly and even if I couldn’t talk they would turn up anyway and give me a cuddle. The ones who truly listened without judgment and showed love, kindness and amazing empathy. Those people didn’t try and find a solution so I could suddenly feel better. Those people understood there isn’t a solution. This can’t be fixed. Yes you can try to do things that may help. Grief can’t be avoided or ignored it had to be faced. Those times I felt less lonely and I am truly grateful for those people.
I ordered a book ‘Dealing with the Death of an Adult Sibling’ and I finally felt what I was feeling was normal. I wasn’t going mad. Exhaustion is normal etc. This gave me a glimmer of hope that one day I would feel like me again. This monster called grief would leave my soul. I felt a sense of peace and relief.
Grief can be very individual but also has similarities. Knowing that other people had felt as I have felt did provide a sense of peace and I’m hoping this will do the same for others.
Dare I say the cliché ‘It does get easier’. The low days are not as low and some days there is evidence of feeling ‘normal’ even happy. I don’t wake up every morning now feeling like there is a ton of bricks sitting on my heart. Not everyday is a struggle anymore. Normal day to day tasks are not as overwhelming. I can get Lily to school without crying most days now. I do have times I feel effortlessly happy without having to force it. I have days when I remember what it is like to be me without this monster called Grief. So Grief it really is time for you to fuck off.
