Grief and the Maze of Emotions
Someone on instagram asked what had surprised us about our grief journey. I have absolutely been pondering this in the last couple of days because actually aside from being sad, ANXIETY has been the next emotion waiting to take it's toll on my mind, body and soul.
What would I have really known about grief before losing my daugher? Honestly, not much. Besides losing distant relatives or friends, I had never really grieved someone so close and so deeply. I think like most humans out there, I didn't even understand the concept of grief. I just thought it was being sad. I wish it was just that simple. You might be thinking, Jenn, why do you wish to be sad? That's sad...lol. Here me out; sadness is not that complex. It is the opposite of happiness, and you can still function in your day, most of the time. However, grief, and the grieving process, SO MUCH
DEEPER.
So maybe you have also heard the expression that grief is like waves of an ocean. When I was first told this, honestly, I though...OK...right. But literally, the waves of emotion exist in grief, and even though this saying sounds so cliche after a while, it is an accurate description/visual of what the grieving process looks like if you like visual things like me. Let me describe these waves because they aren't just full of metaphorical salt water. These waves are storm waves, tsunami waves, hurricane/typhoon waves, but also sometimes calm waves, lapping waves with no power whatsoever.
The water can consist of bitterness, anger, anxiety, sorrow, lament, denial, shock, confusion, emptiness, longing, depressing thoughts, and even amongst the dark waters, joy. Talk about being surprised by this grief journey....how can joy exist among these dark things that should never mix together, yet they do. Also, sometimes the waves are predictable, and sometimes they are not. I fear the latter. At least I can prepare for the storm, when I see a thunder cloud up ahead.
All of this is a constant in my life. Even during the "calm" moments, which thank God they seem to be coming into my life more often, there is a constant battle of emotions and thoughts running through my head. It's exhausting. It's hard to stay motivated and to actually get things done in my normal life. Most of the time, I wear a mask in public because I fear that most people cannot handle these waves, these tears, the deep sorrow that dwells within. However, eventually the mask gets too heavy and burdensome, and I must return to my cave where I can just be me. That's something that has been surprising for me because I have always seen myself as a very open and honest person. However, it has been really hard to truly be vulnerable and to trust that people will be gentle. Thank God that I have friends and family that seek me out and are ok with my non-mask self. I think I would have become a hermit of some sort...I don't know...but let me not go there.
It will be one year in 31 days since Emerie was born. Let me tell you, this grieving process is still ongoing. I write this to let you know that time does not "fix" grief. It doesn't take it away, in fact it only reminds you of how far you are getting from the person you have lost, and you must fight time for the memories. I must not forget; I must cherish every single moment. So if you see me, I hope you don't expect me to be "better" because of the amount of time. Honestly, I don't know when the waves will have more distant between each other. It seems like every new year will hold new milestones to grieve, and I just hope you will be sensitive to that.
Grief is so complicated, unfixable, and deep. All I can do is brace myself for the waves as best I can. I hope this helps any reader who has not experienced deep grief understand even just a glimpse. Someone around you might be hurting deeply, or a trial in your life might hit you at any moment. You are not alone in your grief.
Thanks for reading, Jenn
What would I have really known about grief before losing my daugher? Honestly, not much. Besides losing distant relatives or friends, I had never really grieved someone so close and so deeply. I think like most humans out there, I didn't even understand the concept of grief. I just thought it was being sad. I wish it was just that simple. You might be thinking, Jenn, why do you wish to be sad? That's sad...lol. Here me out; sadness is not that complex. It is the opposite of happiness, and you can still function in your day, most of the time. However, grief, and the grieving process, SO MUCH
DEEPER.
So maybe you have also heard the expression that grief is like waves of an ocean. When I was first told this, honestly, I though...OK...right. But literally, the waves of emotion exist in grief, and even though this saying sounds so cliche after a while, it is an accurate description/visual of what the grieving process looks like if you like visual things like me. Let me describe these waves because they aren't just full of metaphorical salt water. These waves are storm waves, tsunami waves, hurricane/typhoon waves, but also sometimes calm waves, lapping waves with no power whatsoever.
The water can consist of bitterness, anger, anxiety, sorrow, lament, denial, shock, confusion, emptiness, longing, depressing thoughts, and even amongst the dark waters, joy. Talk about being surprised by this grief journey....how can joy exist among these dark things that should never mix together, yet they do. Also, sometimes the waves are predictable, and sometimes they are not. I fear the latter. At least I can prepare for the storm, when I see a thunder cloud up ahead.
All of this is a constant in my life. Even during the "calm" moments, which thank God they seem to be coming into my life more often, there is a constant battle of emotions and thoughts running through my head. It's exhausting. It's hard to stay motivated and to actually get things done in my normal life. Most of the time, I wear a mask in public because I fear that most people cannot handle these waves, these tears, the deep sorrow that dwells within. However, eventually the mask gets too heavy and burdensome, and I must return to my cave where I can just be me. That's something that has been surprising for me because I have always seen myself as a very open and honest person. However, it has been really hard to truly be vulnerable and to trust that people will be gentle. Thank God that I have friends and family that seek me out and are ok with my non-mask self. I think I would have become a hermit of some sort...I don't know...but let me not go there.
It will be one year in 31 days since Emerie was born. Let me tell you, this grieving process is still ongoing. I write this to let you know that time does not "fix" grief. It doesn't take it away, in fact it only reminds you of how far you are getting from the person you have lost, and you must fight time for the memories. I must not forget; I must cherish every single moment. So if you see me, I hope you don't expect me to be "better" because of the amount of time. Honestly, I don't know when the waves will have more distant between each other. It seems like every new year will hold new milestones to grieve, and I just hope you will be sensitive to that.
Grief is so complicated, unfixable, and deep. All I can do is brace myself for the waves as best I can. I hope this helps any reader who has not experienced deep grief understand even just a glimpse. Someone around you might be hurting deeply, or a trial in your life might hit you at any moment. You are not alone in your grief.
Thanks for reading, Jenn
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