The Physical Side of Grief

If you haven't experienced grief, especially a grief that has a significant impact on your daily life, you have no idea its true impact.  I didn't.  You watch movies, you witness friends, you see scenarios take place and they tug at your heart.  What you don't realize... is how real the physical side of grief can be.  For myself, it started with the notification.  Once I realized I wasn't getting up to let J in the house, my sympathetic nervous system took over.  I knew immediately something was wrong, my stomach knotted, my heart was racing.  When I learned what had happened, I remember my arms, legs, fingers, face all tingling, going numb.  I vividly remember telling myself... "Do NOT faint... you are holding a baby!!" I feel bad for the man who delivered the news.  He was very obviously a rookie and I would love to help him learn to do it all a little better... not that there is an easy way to do that, but he could definitely use a few pointers.  He asked then if I was alone, did I have anyone to call... I had no response.  I truly had no idea what to do next.  I still to this day thank heaven for all of my "first responders"... those people who helped me navigate those first several days.  After that, obviously, a numbness sets in.  I suspect that for those for whom this happens differently have the same physical impacts early... they are just a little different.  A spouse is diagnosed with a terminal disease.  The diagnosis comes with a shock, a numbness... then an "ok we're going to fight this"... then a realization that that fight isn't going to be successful... and finally a shock and frustration that it really wasn't.

What happens after the death of your spouse is different for everyone, yet for many, very much the same.  We react, we survive, notify friends, family, make plans, arrange, comfort our children, accept condolences.  Looking back now, a year later, I realize how strong the physical response can be.  I don't think I ate much of anything for several weeks.  Not bad for losing baby weight, but not great for staying healthy and strong.  Things suddenly didn't taste good, I had no desire to eat.  I was preoccupied and distracted.  Too bad because everyone was bringing food to the house.  It was all very much appreciated... but after a couple of weeks, I looked at the kids and said "put your shoes on, we're going out to eat!"  I still didn't eat anything, but it felt good to get out.  In the first several weeks, I would make a sandwich or grab a bite and then wonder where I put it down only to find it in a strange place a few days later.  Still, a year after J's death, I don't completely have my appetite back.  I often forget to eat and things I loved to eat before don't sound very appealing.  For some it is the opposite.  The grief brings a longing for comfort, and many will search for that in food.  A good friend of mine who also lost her husband and has been a wonderful help to me gained almost 70 pounds trying not to drown in her grief and depression. 

I have always been an active person, one who loved to exercise.  This was something J and I enjoyed doing together.  We had tested together to achieve our second degree black belts and were about 4 months away from testing for our third degree.  After the dust settled, I put my running shoes on and decided I needed to get out there to help with the stress... I couldn't do it.  I ran for about 10 minutes and then cried the rest of the time I had set aside to exercise.  I tried returning to Tae Kwon Do, and the knots in my stomach never allowed me to make it passed the front door.  A year later, I still haven't returned.  I did, after about seven months, find a way to return to exercise.  I had many people offer to keep the baby, but struggled with the thought of any more time away from my little Charlee. 

Anxiety... wow.  The attitude I have tried to carry in life is one of "do my best, take care of my own and try and hang with the curve balls life throws your way."  I'd like to describe myself as fairly laid back. Kids are going to get bumps, bruises, illnesses.  Accidents are going to happen that you can't prevent (ok... yeah... got that one!).  I was never one to conjure up the worst case scenario... until then.  But worry and anxiety aren't always obvious.  It sure started out obvious... what if something happens to Charlee... is she breathing ok?  Why didn't she wake up at her usual time?  What if something happens to me?  Who will take care of Charlee?  Did my older kids and their dad made it to the beach safely?  Will the finances be ok? How will I do it all?  ... Then it settled into a physical response.  For several months I found my blood pressure up, my chest would sometimes feel heavy and I learned what a panic attack was.  And then I was embarrassed.  I felt weak, ashamed.  I needed to be strong for the children.  I still have moments when sleep eludes me, others when that's all I'd like to do.  I am slowly getting over a strong desire not to leave the house.  Travel has been difficult and anxiety provoking at times, but I am slowly planning vacations with the kids... and perhaps a short getaway just for me. 

Time does heal.  Not as quickly as many of us would like.  I will admit that I still struggle daily, but I have found time to exercise, I usually remember to eat, I rarely find myself in a panic anymore and while I still cry on a regular basis, it isn't daily.  I still have days that seem impossible, but life itself continues to unfold beautifully in front of me.  For now, I still live life with a little numbness.  I focus on the kids, survive work, smile with the lives I'm blessed to bring into this world, and continue to put one foot in front of the other.  I am thankful for those who've taken me under their wing, some from close by and others afar.  If it weren't for them, the world would be a much darker place for me these days.  Tonight I had dinner with one of my closest friends.  Her family is now mine.  It made me smile to listen to all the laughter, the chatter.  They say when one chapter ends, another begins.  "Every storm runs out of rain."... While many days it still rains, I see the sun on the horizon.  I miss you baby and I still love you more and more every day, an emotional and very much physical pain I feel every day in my heart.

Goodnight all.