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Month: May 2013

What is grief?

What is grief?

I’ve been thinking a lot about this recently. I spend a lot of time online which is good from the point of view of finding out information, and bad because you never know if the information is good or not! We have a local hospice which offers grieving counselling and bereavement support, the doctor made a referral for the family to them at the beginning of May, but typically for government organisations we’ve not heard anything yet!

Just so that I could connect with other people in a similar situation I’ve been browsing a few forums dedicated to grief and loss, particularly that of the loss of the spouse. They are a mixed bunch really.

One of the things that seems to be standing out is that everyone is grieving struggles with the concept of what it actually is, and what they should do.

A person posted on one of the forums yesterday that her family thought she was obsessing about her late husband, she posted a whole host of things she was doing and asked the forum if she was indeed obsessive or whether this was normal.

The question is, what is normal? And who makes up the rules?

Reading through the posts that many of these people are making I’ve come to realise that in this situation we make up our own rules, and then beat ourselves up with them… What a crazy thing to do.

Each time I catch myself using words like should, must or ought I ask myself the question “Who says?” – and most of the time it’s me, putting my own pressures on myself.

Learning to ignore myself is a strange thing to do. I’m learning to accept that however I feel at any given moment is absolutely fine, I don’t have to do anything. There are no stages of grieving! People have said that everyone goes through seven stages starting with denial then anger then some other bull shit… Who says?

In my own grief I refuse to be defined by other people’s version of normal. I refuse to define myself as a grieving person.

As ever I’m writing this post off the top of my head and things keep coming to mind, and what comes to mind now is the political correctness regarding disabilities (okay, my mind leaps around all over the place). I always used to think that the person with disabilities was ‘disabled’ – and I remember advertising campaigns saying they are not a disabled person, they are simply a person living with a disability. It always seemed like a semantic argument, but now I understand. I’m not a grieving person, I’m a person living with grief – I refuse to let it define me.

One of the other things that other people on the forums seem to struggle with his guilt. I can understand this but choose not to do it myself. Sitting here writing, if I think about it, I can find lots of things to be guilty about. Guilty that I didn’t make Claire slow down a bit. Guilty that we didn’t move to her beloved  seaside a couple of years ago. Guilty that we didn’t take her to the hospital sooner. But I choose not to beat myself up over these things. What’s the point?

Guilt only serves one purpose and that is to destroy us. The reality is that Claire and I made the best decisions we could, at the time that we made them, knowing what we knew then. With the extra knowledge I have now, if I could go back in time, I would make different decisions. But when those decisions were made I didn’t have that additional knowledge, and so we made the best decisions that we could.

I’ve let those things go.

One of the things that someone said on a forum yesterday was that people die, but love doesn’t. I took comfort from those words which reminded me of what Claire and I had engraved on the inside of our wedding rings:

“Endless Love”

And it is…

Each day I learn a little bit more

Each day I learn a little bit more

Yesterday seemed like a bit of a dark day, as you can probably tell from my blog post. It’s strange how things can turn around quite quickly.

I’m doing what I can to keep fit now and regularly go out for a short jog, during the day yesterday it felt as though I was nearing the end of one of my jogs when my body shouts that it wants to stop. All I wanted to do yesterday was lay down and give up. When I went for a jog in the evening I started it with the same mental attitude and found after only 100 yards I was struggling. Every step I wanted to stop. It just wasn’t happening.

But this morning I went out on that same jog along the same route, nothing has happened to me physically overnight but I went out with a different mental attitude today. I didn’t focus on the pain of each step, I focused on the feeling of having completed 3 miles and how good that feels.

It is so true but when our eyes drop to focus on every step, we notice each one and how painful it is. Yet when we lift our heads, look to the future and keep going, things seem brighter and easier.

Each day I learn a little bit more.

 

Wearing the armour

Wearing the armour

Friday 24th May:

This is so stupid.

Someone bought me  a really nice bottle of red wine for my birthday (which was 2 days before Claire died) and I’ve not drunk it yet. When they gave it to me I thought “This will be nice to share with Claire one Friday night” as we often opened a bottle at that time.

I couldn’t bring myself to open it before now, but tonight I did and I feel crap.

It’s great wine but I feel lost and lonely with no-one to share it with. It’s weird, when I shared a bottle of wine with my wife it felt special but when I drink it alone I feel like a craven alcoholic.

The only solace I can take is that this is the first time I’ve done it and I never have to go through it again.

Tuesday 28th May:

The kids wanted to go to Blockbuster yesterday to rent a film, Claire was the only one that had a card so we had to look through her purse to find it. I still haven’t done that yet, I’ve not sorted through any of her personal stuff, it’s all exactly as she left it when she left the house on 17th April to go to the hospital. Her purse is in her bag which is hanging under the stairs, her pyjamas are in her bedside table and her clothes are piled up in her wardrobe.

Next weekend we have a family reunion with some Australian relatives, the following week is my eldest’s 18th Birthday and the weekend after that would have been our 22nd wedding anniversary – I’m not clearing on those days, so I guess the job of clearing and sorting isn’t going to happen for a few weeks yet.

The waking world can seem very dark and cold at the moment. I’m not in the depths of despair or anything like that, but I can see how it could be easy to go that way. It’s like there is a bottomless hole opening up next to me, a hole that just goes down and down. Dark, cold and hard to climb out of.

There are days when I can look down in to that hole and see it as the easy option.

It’s tough staying above ground, it’s tough fighting to stay on top. It’s like when I’m out for a little jog, I reach the point when my body SCREAMS stop, and the easiest thing is to just giveup and sit down…. but I could be a few miles from home so I have to go on and fight. The difference is that with this emotional battle is that there’s no end point, no way of knowing when I can actually stop and rest.

I know the battle is entirely in my head, I know that in all of this the one thing I CAN control is what happens inside my head – I know I have the resources I need to firmly anchor myself to solid ground and keep from falling in to that hole.

It’s unlike me to quote scripture, but this came to me this morning (after some Googling!)

“But since we belong to the day, we must be serious and put the armor of faith and love on our chests, and put on a helmet of the hope of salvation.”

1 Thessalonians 5:8

That’s exactly how I feel, like I must put on the armour for each day. And if that’s what needs to be done, so be it.

 

Change Time

Change Time

I know from my training as a coach that we create emotional problems (phobias, fear, anger etc) when there is a massive change, or significant emotional event, in our lives that our neurology can’t cope with, our mind simply dumps everything in to an ’emotional dustbin’ and screws the lid on tight to keep us safe and to allow us to cope.

Up until now I’ve not really experienced such a significant single event, sure we’ve had some tough times (people that know us know what those are) but apart from when the twins were born and we nearly lost Toby things have been pretty stable – or at least they’ve seemed that way.

2001095-240568-stock-market-trend-under-magnifier-glass

At the time things can seem up and down, like tracking the stock market up and down with one of those little charts they draw… up, down, up, down… almost a rhythm to it.

At the time it seems like it’s up and down, but when we get a SIGNIFICANT event, like the death of a spouse and we pan out from that chart and take the whole thing in context, that small area of our lives seems to be constant when we can see that huge event in the context of everything else.

Up until last night I didn’t realise how much my life has changed since 17th April 2013.

If I compare now to 16th April everything has changed – work, kids, home, relationship… everything!

That old life has gone – the routines, the way we did things, the habits, the aspirations, the plans – all changed.

Accepting that is difficult, but the reality is that there is no choice and Claire always told me “If you can’t change it, accept it and move on to something you CAN change’ – she was right… she always was!

Claire, it’s the twins birthday today and we miss you. I remember 16 years ago when we almost lost Toby and he was hooked up to a ventilator looking really ill. You did so well, you were such a great Mum and you sat by them both for weeks in special care. It’s days like today when we really notice you are absent. You are so missed, you really are. I love you so much Claire and this pain of loss is hard to take, but I know I have to get through it. Thank you for all you did sweetheart. We’ll miss you today.

There’s no fitting title

There’s no fitting title

I’m really starting to notice that Claire shaped hole in my life now. She died just over a month ago and it really feels like it!

We’re coping pretty well with the practical stuff, the kids are mucking in and our families have been great, it’s the ‘loss’ stuff that is really hard to deal with.

I guess I’ve never really experienced loss quite like this before, most other emotions (it seems to me) we get a taste of throughout our lives – anger, fear, sadness etc we all get a little taste of – but loss we only ever experience when we’re ‘in’ that situation fully.

When I wake up in the morning I feel it. In recent years (since I stopped at the lab) Claire got up before me, so I’m used to waking up in an empty bed… but I used to look forward to coming down stairs and seeing her smile at me.

In the middle of the day, when I’m sitting in my office overlooking the road, I could see her when she pulled up in the car outside after work. I used to look forward to her waving at me as she got out the car.

In the early evening, I often used to sit upstairs and watch telly and pop down to find Claire watching Coast or Escape to the Country or Homes Under the Hammer or some other seaside/property program – now I don’t bother, I just sit in my bedroom thinking.

Of course I miss her all the time, but there are certain times of the day when it really digs, and living here, in this house, those old habits and constant reminders are prodding me almost every second of every day – and those prods are sharp and painful.

Where is this blog post going? I’ve no idea, but I needed to write that down so I am aware of when the feeling’s gone… or at least reduced!

I watched ‘The Kings Speech’ the other day – that was not nice. Claire and I wanted to see it at the cinema, but life overtook us and we never made it. We then decided we’d wait until the DVD came out and watch it then, but life overtook us and we never made it. We then thought we’d watch it on TV – it was on a few months ago and we recorded it, but life overtook us and we never made it.

I was then browsing the recorded programs and found it. It was really strange watching it without Claire – I mean, it’s only a film but it just seemed wrong. Claire was supposed to be there as I watched it… just like she is supposed to smile at me in the morning, wave at me from the car and be watching Coast in the evening. But she wasn’t and the sharp dig that I got still hurts.

Unfortunately with this post I can’t think of anything positive to say, we just need time I guess!

==============================================

POSTSCRIPT

On re-reading this I found a spelling mistake. I type pretty fast and most of the time I’m not thinking about which key to press, I’m thinking about the words to say. With that ‘unconscious’ typing I made a spelling mistake… or at least my unconscious typing made a mistake – and that mistake was in the first line. Instead of writing ‘…Claire shaped hole …’ I originally wrote ‘…Claire shaped whole …’ – perhaps my unconscious knows something I don’t.

Today I’m going to let my unconscious mind notice what it needs to notice in order for that hole to be whole.

 

 

It’s Getting Tough

It’s Getting Tough

They say ‘It’ll be tough’ – so what is that ‘it’ that they talk about?

It’s getting tough now. But what is it?

Can it be defined?

Can we say what it is, or if it has gone.

It’s just a play on words isn’t it, surely?

And if it’s just a play on words, we can’t tell if it’s gone and we don’t know what it is… does it exist?

I’m confused now about it. Good, it’s gone!

 

 

Missing her

Missing her

Yesterday I went to see a new client in Epsom, Surrey. On my way back I drove through Ashtead and remembered that my old boss that I worked for when I was 19 lived there… for some bizarre reason I could remember his address.

Via the joys of a SatNav I could see I was only 4 minutes away, I had no idea if he still lived there but I took the chance, knocked on his door and to my surprise there he was.

What a great 2 hours we spent catching up with our families.

Now the thing is this. I really enjoyed catching up with Michael, he had a wayward son when I worked for him and I used to get stories of his exploits. He also had new born twin grandchildren, so again I used to get stories of all that twins get up to.

I used to come home and share all this fun stuff with Claire, and I know that if I’d been able to share what became of those kids and stories with Claire yesterday we’d have been talking for ages.

Yesterday I felt myself bursting with little stories to share with her. What the twins are doing now, what became of the wayward son, and more.

But I came home to nothing.

For the first time I had some stories to share and no-one to share them with. Even telling them to my Mum later last night wasn’t the same as she didn’t get all the original exploits 20 years ago. Claire did. Claire knows the full story and could have referred  back to “do you remember the time when….”.

I guess that’s just part of what I need to let go of. She was the only person in the world that knew so much about me and my life which made those conversations so easy.

It’s the interaction with Claire I miss. The deep, deep knowledge of understanding about every facet of our lives that being with someone for 28 years brings.

I’ve nothing more to add, other than I truly am missing her today.

Loss of Love

Loss of Love

Whilst driving the other day I had a realisation. I’m not loved any more!

I’m not saying that no-one loves me, it’s just that I’m not loved in a husband/wife way any more.

I had a long chat with 2 of  the kids last night about Claire (To. and M.) – they too are feeling it… they aren’t loved in a motherly way any more.

I guess we all feel that ‘loss of love’ in a different way, the love of a Sister, a Daughter, a Mum, a Wife or a Friend. And that love that’s missing can never be replaced because it goes deeper than the specific role.. it was the unique and special kind of love that Claire gave to her husband, wife, children, sister and friends. And that love can never be replaced.

Life does feel empty without that love, it really does.

Coaching mode engage!

What does that love get for ME?

island of loveIt’s that sense of warmth, that spreads out and surrounds me, like putting on a really thick woolly jumper in the middle of a cold dark night.

That warmth of lying in a steaming hot bath and feeling the stress soak and relax away in to the water.

That warmth of a huge hug from the person you desperately love.

And once again as I think about it now, the picture of an island all alone and stranded comes to mind. Yet that same island is surrounded by the warm and relaxing sea that Claire loved so much.

I’m going to buy a big picture of an island and hang it on the wall, it’ll remind me of that love each time I walk past it.

Love isn’t something that emanates in a physical sense from another person, if it were then we wouldn’t feel loved when they left the room. Love is something that endures in the absence of that person… so if that’s true I am loved by a wife and the kids are loved by a mum – we just are!

The journey to a new routine

The journey to a new routine

Today I’m feeling rather overwhelmed.

Overwhelmed with a) The practicalities of running the house b) The practicalities of dealing with the legal side of Claire’s death.

The legal side of things I’m happy to delegate to willing volunteers where possible, and indeed I have done, but the house side of things is different.

We need to work out the new routine of how we do things, and the answer lies in ourselves as a family. People have been REALLY kind and offered lots of help, and if there is a special event or similar (it’s Toby and Theas’ 16th and Olivia’s 18th soon) I’m happy to accept help but for the everyday stuff we need to do it ourselves, we need our new routines.

Claire used to do the dog walk every morning and some evenings, now the kids have to do it.

The washing, cooking, cleaning, shopping, running about, arranging all now needs to be done by me – and on top of working it is a little overwhelming at the moment.

The only reason I’m writing this all down is to document how I feel NOW, so that in a few months I can look back and see how far I’ve come and how well we’re coping.

Today is a marker of that journey, a conscious “This is my current destination” – because, just like a SatNav, if I don’t know where I’ve started the journey can’t be navigated. With my current location set I can see what needs to be done and plot my route to somewhere new.

There is a new routine out there for myself and the kids, we just need to complete the journey to find it.

Yesterday was a low day

Yesterday was a low day

Yesterday was a low day.

I thought that after the funeral all the nasty ‘compulsory arranging stuff’ would end and that we could get on with dealing with things – how wrong was I!

I’ve now got a huge pile of paperwork to complete, as with many couples we had no life insurance for Claire, but she worked for Barclays 20 years ago and more recently in the local school as a learning support assistant. Both Barclays and the school had pensions attached (tiny ones, but still something) that I can now claim.

As we have no debts, no credit cards, no HP and everything was in joint names I felt no need for a grant of probate, but these pension companies are insisting I have probate before they’ll pay out… so now not only do I have to complete their lengthy forms, I have to go through the probate system as well. As if loosing Claire and trying to find new routines to do everything she did around the house wasn’t enough, I now have this extra burden of form filling to claim pensions of £20/week!

Yesterday was a low day.

The loneliness is also starting to kick in. I know I’m not alone, but I really do feel lonely. Please don’t ever take for granted your ability to ‘share’ with your partner, sharing is such a powerful and meaningful thing to do, even the small things like “Oh look that cloud looks like a duck” have a whole new meaning when you’ve no-one to share it with!

I used to store up little things like that to share with Claire for a few days and then we’d have a little chat over a coffee or on a walk – but now I can’t and I feel so lonely.

Yesterday was a low day.

OK, so rather than wallow, what am I going to do differently next time that’s positive, for me and that I can learn from?

30 MINUTES LATER

If you’ve not experienced Time Line Therapy® before you may not fully understand what this all means – apologies but this means a lot to me.

I’ve just notice that my time line changed colour a few weeks ago, if I look to the past my time line is bright right up to Claire’s death where it almost fades out, then if I turn to the future it still remains faded. I can change it in my mind but at the moment it’s not easy to maintain.

Learning 1: Each day I must check my time line and ensure it’s bright, if not make it as bright as I need to make it the brightest and most brilliant time line.

Looking down on yesterday what can I learn?

I feel like an island, alone and not connected. But as I go higher I notice something… what is an island surrounded by? Of course, it’s a beach and the sea – even writing that down brings out the tears – Claire loved the sea, she felt alive by the sea she wants to be laid to rest by the sea.

Learning 2: As that lonely island I am in fact surrounded by Claire. If I keep that picture in my mind, even though it makes me cry, I feel the love and warmth of her all around me.

Today will be a little brighter.