Grieving hearts often feel misunderstood, judged, and even rejected. People would rather we just pulled ourselves up and returned to who we were. That, however, is impossible.
This article, adapted from Comfort for the Grieving Spouse’s Heart, expresses the frustration we experience when no one wants to listen. Everyone wants us to feel better and move on. No matter what your loss, chances are you can relate…
FROM THE GRIEVING HEART:
I feel like a robot. I’m going through the motions. I don’t want to go anywhere or do anything. Why can’t life just stop for a while?
This is unfair. Even cruel. Everyone expects me to go on as usual, as if I’m doing great and the same person I was before you left.
Ridiculous. I’m not the same. How could I be? I’m alone now. If I just went on as before, what would that say about you and our relationship?
You’re my love, my soulmate, whether you’re here or not. I love you. I miss you. Why can’t the world accept that? Why can’t my own friends and family accept that?
Everyone wants me to feel better. No one wants me to be hurting. But how realistic is that? Expecting me to be “fine” is like expecting a head-on collision to have no effect whatsoever on the cars or people involved.
Partners aren’t supposed to leave. Love is forever. Yes, we all die. Yes, I know that’s natural. But it’s all wrong somehow. You should be here.
I want you here.
Yes, this is ridiculous.
When the world turns ridiculous.
There is much about loss and grief which makes logical sense, but emotionally our hearts have trouble grappling with it. We’re wired for relationship and built for connection. Over time, our lives become a web of relationships. When one strand is severed, our entire life web reverberates with the shock.
Our spouse is usually the thickest, most foundational strand in our web. When that strand is broken our whole life shakes.
Much like breaking a leg, we become instantly focused on the pain and its source. What once was simple, like walking, has become excruciatingly painful and almost impossible. Routine, everyday life immediately changes into a set of Mount Everest-like challenges.
The rest of the world seems unchanged. Others’ webs have not been struck, and their lives move along as usual. It feels like we’ve been transported to another planet and are being forced to live a different life trying to navigate unruly emotions and unrealistic expectations. And it feels like we’re doing it alone.
Ridiculous. Yes, that’s a good word for it.
Yes, there may be times we might feel like robots. We go through the motions, doing our best to stay functional. There is so much going on inside us, far more than we can understand, feel, or manage all at once. As much as possible, we take one moment, one step at a time. We let the grief be what it is. We try to accept ourselves as we are, in this moment.
Affirmation: I’ll work on accepting myself while grieving, one moment, one step at a time.
Adapted from Comfort for the Grieving Spouse’s Heart: Hope and Healing After Losing Your Partner. Watch the video book trailer here.
Additional Recommended Resources:
Grief Soundbites – Our Expectations of Other People: Gary Roe YouTube
The Five People You Will Meet in Grief: Thrive Global
When Other People Don’t Get It – The Grief Toolbox
When my husband was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, and the months that followed, including after his passing, I felt like I was watching a movie that we were in. I guess it was hard for me to accept what was really happening. This was six years ago. Now with this pandemic, I am reliving those feelings, like I am watching a movie about this Covid-19 virus, and that I’m in it but it isn’t really happening. It’s bringing back a lot of the emotions I had when I was grieving my husband’s diagnosis and death.
HI Miriam. Thanks for sharing this. You’re not alone in this. I’ve heard from many others experiencing a grief burst or flashback effects from the whole COVID-19 situation. The situation itself has become traumatic, which in turn triggers all our old emotions, fears, longings, and even our intense grief as if it’s all happening all over again. I’m so sorry. Please be kind to yourself, Miriam. We will get through this – together.
It’s been nearly 3 years since I loss my soulmate, my best friend, my husband. I still awake feeling as though I can barely breathe with the depth of my grief. I have gone through the motions of daily life, but there have been days that I gave into the loneliness and depression and never left my bed. I am a teacher. This is my 30th and final year. With the pandemic I have taught online for nearly 6 weeks. I miss seeing my students. I miss my classroom. I feel cheated of closure for a career that’s lasted over half of my life. It’s been especially hard for me as I look towards a retirement that is no longer the one “we” had planned. The feelings of grief and anger are overwhelming at times. I don’t teach high school, where students are capable of locating and disseminating information; I teach kindergarten. My daily greetings from little faces soothe my soul. The little moments where understanding becomes apparent, strengthens my heart that I am making a difference. The ending of this has been another terrible shock of loss on my emotions. I struggle with balancing the grief with the small joys of seeing my kids appear on my computer screen. Life is a gift, but the pain comes in equal measure. I pray for understanding and guidance, but the human in me mourns for what I cannot have.
Hi Melissa. Thank you for sharing. I’m so sorry about your husband. What a massive loss. And if that wasn’t enough, now this other loss – and it is very significant indeed. This is not how anyone would like to end their career, especially a teacher. And yes…those little faces and voices can bring a levity and perspective that nothing else can. What a gift children are to us. I’m so sorry. There is much mourning to be done here with these two massive, ongoing losses. Please be kind to yourself and patient with yourself in this. Hopefully, you have someone safe you can share with, though that too is “depersonalized” quite a bit with our current situation with COVID-19. Ugh. Thankfully, now is not forever. I’m praying for you now, Melissa…
Dear Gary- you have put into words the way I felt ( and often do)- it was 39 years ago and felt like my heart had been torn out. I am going to share this with a few friends who are at Watercrest and who are struggling through the cobwebs;
Hi Fern. Great to hear from you. Cobwebs – what a good to express it. Thank you for being one of those people who move through the cobwebs and then help others do the same. You are a blessing….
I’m, I think, kind of far into this, though in reality, I could have decades more to go. Yet, I battle this every day. Had a discussion with my therapist about how my memories are still so painful- reminders of what I will never have again. Therapist told me I need to change my perspective- to remember how happy I was making those memories instead. As I have been thinking about this, it makes me angry. It’s not my perspective, it’s my reality! Sure, I wish I could remember and not collapse into my sea of tears, but when no one even tries to see how much I have truly lost with my husband’s passing, I just want to add another layer to my wall. My husband was my everything, in a non dependent way, and now it’s all gone. I asked my husband how I was going to live without him. He said,” you’ll figure something out.” It’ll be 5 yrs and 8 months in 6 days and I still have no clue.
Hi Barb. Thanks for sharing. I feel the pain and frustration in your words. I’m so sorry.