The Grievers’ Despair

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No one knows it like we do.

The grievers.

Those who have lost.

Forced to rebuild and start over.

Expected to be alone.

In the sidelines.

To watch the happy home.

No longer ours.

Interlopers.

Weakness never an option.

Vulnerability a defect.

Happiness an illusion.

As children, we did not know despair.

That deep dark cave.

That feeling of emptiness and unimportance.

That apathy that exists when life is lost.

Despair.

We came to know later.

Forced to face our shadows.

Our demons.

Monsters from our past and present.

We used to slay dragons.

We used to curse demons.

But now we welcome them.

We are pain.

We are suffering.

We are despair.

Two roads split in the dark.

To the same place.

Happiness.

Despair.

One cannot exist without the other.

“Friend Just Died I Don’t Know What To Do”

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My mom passed over two years ago and I stumbled upon this passage in a blog about grief, which really sums up the journey we go through and why we should celebrate each scar we gain in the process.

Ahead is the response, by an older man,  to the blogger who wrote, “My friend just died I don’t know what to do”.

“Alright, here goes. I’m old. What that means is that I’ve survived (so far) and a lot of people I’ve known and loved did not. I’ve lost friends, best friends, acquaintances, co-workers, grandparents, mom, relatives, teachers, mentors, students, neighbors, and a host of other folks. I have no children, and I can’t imagine the pain it must be to lose a child. But here’s my two cents.

I wish I could say you get used to people dying. I never did. I don’t want to. It tears a hole through me whenever somebody I love dies, no matter the circumstances. But I don’t want it to “not matter”. I don’t want it to be something that just passes. My scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love. So be it. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even gorged, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can’t see.

As for grief, you’ll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you’re drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it’s some physical thing. Maybe it’s a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it’s a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive.

In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don’t even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you’ll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what’s going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything…and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life. Somewhere down the line, and it’s different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O’Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you’ll come out.

Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don’t really want them to. But you learn that you’ll survive them. And other waves will come. And you’ll survive them too. If you’re lucky, you’ll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks.”

Hope this helps you out.

Ahead is the link:

https://www.reddit.com/r/Assistance/comments/hax0t/my_friend_just_died_i_dont_know_what_to_do/c1u0rx2

Two Years Past….I Miss You Mom!

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It’s been two years since she left us.
Two years since I got the call.
Two years spent lost inside myself,
In a sea of pain, struggling against each wave.
Hoping for a moment of peace.

I’ve cried inconsolably.
Lost friends. Made friends.
Days spent staring at four walls.
Nights spent in a dreamless haze wondering,
“Could this be real?”

Mistakes. I’ve made so many.
Hoping she’d somehow come,
And set me straight again.
To have her scream at me.
To hear her yell, “Stop! I love you!”

I think back to that day, that year, these nights,
And wonder how I’ve made it through,
With most of my heart torn away.
I’ve become sensitive,
Each slight an open wound.

I wish I could say more happy things.
I wish I could not feel the pain.
I wish I could live each day, as she would want me to,
But right now, I just pull through,
And to me, that is victory.

I miss you, Mom.
You were the greatest. Are the greatest.
Today, I hold on to the love you gave me,
And ask those closest to me,
To treasure the love of a mom.

Black Widow

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After we lost our mother we were destroyed
Our house infiltrated by the devil
Eager to break our spirit
Eager to break our fragile bond
Took what treasure she could get her chubby little hands on
Heart
Soul

My mother’s “friend”
Demonic grin
Fake saggy tits
Cellulite ass
Clutching. Grasping.
Pursed bloated lips against a wine glass
Seductive to a blind man
Still married. She got a ring. A diamond ring
They’re only “things” right?

Single White Female in my mother’s clothing
Single White Female scavenging for jewels
Vulture. Bottom feeder. Tramp
Using her musky rotten scent to entrap a weak man
Dying her hair just the right color, just like my mom’s
Sending a poor fragile old soldier on the hunt for gifts
Not just any gift, the “just right gift”
The right expensive gift

A house ransacked
A grave desecrated
A family destroyed
Father against son
Father against daughter
Brother against sister
All in the name of “love”

Sad the women who get away with this
Sad the women who lack values, morals or goodwill
Sad the women who destroy the pure and good
But the Devil always gets hers
Someone looking. Watching. Waiting
An Angel
A hunter
To shoot the demon where it hurts

Build Again

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Early in my grief process, I didn’t know what to expect.

How do you move on when you get that late night call, put in the most indelicate way, that your mother is gone?

I was living in California and my mother lived in Texas and I’ll never forget that plane ride home.  It’s horrific to know that what you’re flying into is not just the death of your mother, but the realization that you never said, “goodbye”.

I didn’t hug her the last time she dropped me at the airport, as usual, I was in a hurry and “had to make that plane”.  I felt I would hug her the following week, since I had to go back to Texas to conduct a seminar, but that trip was cancelled.

I never made it back in time.

I always hugged my mom, but, sadly, not that last time.

I no longer regret it, I just accept it, as part of the sadness.

During this time, I began my research on grief– asking questions like “how long does it last”, “what should I expect”, “will this pain go deeper”, well, as we all know, the only way to experience grief is to go through it, but I did find some comfort in the following passage by Rachel Naomi, which I reread from time to time and will share again:

“Every great loss demands that we choose life again.  We need to grieve in order to do this.  The pain we have not grieved over will always stand between us and life.  When we don’t grieve, a part of us becomes caught in the past like Lot’s wife who, because she looked back, was turned into a pillar of salt.  Grieving is not about forgetting.  Grieving allows us to heal, to remember with love rather than pain.  It is a sorting process.  One by one you let go of the things that are gone and you mourn for them.  One by one you take hold of the things that have become a part of who you are and build again.” ~ Rachel Naomi Remen

I now understand this sorting process, but it takes a long time to get there, and I’m still not done.

Gone

When my mother first passed. I was so numb.  I thought that was grief. But then I got angry. And I thought that was grief, until I got  sad. Scary sad.  A sadness no one can understand until you’re in it. That lasted over a year.  I can finally feel the sun on my back. Some days I’m happy.  But there is still a huge emptiness deep inside me, that may never go away.  I was asked to repost this. I wrote this when I was deep deep in the isolation phase. It was a very dark depression. Losing a mother is indeed the hardest thing that will happen to you.

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Sky filled clouds

Sunless days

Stormy nights

Shelter shed

Sleepless slumber

Sacred soul

Sacred mother

Gone. All Gone


No smile

No laugh

No sweet embrace

No eyebrow raise

Nothing

Nothing

Gone. All Gone


My starry night

My sweet hello

My desert sun

My halo moon

Rose in bloom

Gone. All Gone


You are my Angel now

My guide to light

My shattered soul

My wounded heart

One day

Gone. All Gone

The Deeper the Loss the Deeper the Pain

 

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In my journey through grief I stumbled upon a great article that really defines our journey through the mourning process— taking us somehow from dark to light.

Tons of therapy helps of course– but embracing the pain and pushing through it is how we grow.

I miss my mother everyday.

Everyday.

But I know that she would want me to thrive.

I’m still trying.

Please read ahead:

Adversity is of value because it often helps us grow more mature. How does this work?

Human psychology is concerned, at heart, with loss and the threat of loss. So it begins with desire, and with the consequent forming of attachments to all manner of people and things: to places, wealth, objects, activities, ideas (including political and religious ideas); to anything under the sun.

The converse of desire is aversion. They go together. If you like something, you are averse to losing it. If you dislike something, you desire its absence. Likes and dislikes are part of being human. No-one avoids desires and attachments, or the painful emotional consequences. However, we can learn to manage them wisely. It helps a great deal to understand the process, as follows.

Let’s say you own a costly diamond, and keep it locked away. Your desire for the precious gemstone and attachment to it naturally spark the emotions of anxiety and doubt. You have heard that thieves are operating in the area, and are uncertain, possibly to the point of bewilderment, about how best to protect your possession.

Anxiety, bewilderment and doubt are the first emotional responses to the threat of loss. As threat intensifies (when, say, attempts are made to break in and steal the jewel), angercommonly arises. Your security is threatened. Your people are threatened. Your ideas about yourself and the world may feel threatened too. Defiance, resistance to loss, gives birth to these feelings of anger.

Eventually, your defences are breached. Let’s say the theft actually takes place. Anger persists for a time as the reality and extent of the loss sinks in. Feeling responsible; that you could and should have done more to prevent the intrusion, for example; you begin to experience the emotions of shame and guilt. Finally, in full face of the loss, realization dawns upon you. When forced to accept the reality of it, with nothing left to do to reverse the situation, nothing left to say to justify it, only sadness remains.

Playing the Musical Scales

These painful emotions are linked. Like the colours in a rainbow or the notes of a musical scale, they set each other off. Happily, this is not the end of the story.Grieving is a process that eventually leads not only to healing but also to personal growth. Each painful emotion is related to a pain-free counterpart, as follows:

 

Spectrum of Painful and Pain-free Emotions

Wanting (desire) – Contentment

Bewilderment – Clarity

Anxiety – Calm

Doubt – Confidence

Anger – Acceptance

Shame – Worth (self-esteem)

Guilt – Innocence (purity)

Sadness – Happiness (joy)

Real sadness is accompanied by tears, by weeping. This liberates emotional energy that was previously invested in attachment to whatever has been lost. An emotional cleansing (‘catharsis’) occurs, and results in a renewal of energy. With this natural and healthy re-charging of the emotional batteries, sadness turns spontaneously into its polar opposite,joy. Guilt and shame revert in a similar way to self-esteem and a sense of purity. Anger likewise switches over from resistance towards acceptance. Anxiety becomes calm. Doubts fade, leaving a sense of certainty. Bewilderment evaporates, leaving clarity. Finally, with full acceptance of the loss, desire is replaced by contentment. Calm, joyful satisfaction is felt with things just as they are… Until desire and aversion take hold once again!

We go through this sequence towards catharsis, healing and growth frequently, in small things and on the grand scale, whenever threats and losses are experienced and weathered. The emotional release, as the process resolves, leaves us more alive, more spontaneous, less fearful, and better able to stay clearly focused in the present moment.Personal growth like this is usually permanent and cumulative. We continue to build our strengths and our virtues. It may feel like it sometimes, but we are not designed to go backwards.

For those already mature enough to let go easily of their attachments, happiness arises with, or even ahead of sorrow; so laughter works to unlock the emotions as well as, or even better than, tears. The mental clarity associated with such emotional healing fosterswisdom and creativity. Other people, no longer experienced as competitors, are now seen as fellow strugglers and sufferers on life’s difficult path. This insight then fosters a rise in fellow-feeling, selflessness, compassion, wisdom and love. When someone faces and accepts a loss, and weathers the emotional whirlwind that follows until calm is once again restored, everybody benefits. That’s what I call maturity!

Emotional healing and spiritual growth

https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/spiritual-wisdom-secular-times/201208/emotional-healing-and-personal-growth-spirituality

 

 

Christmas. Alone.

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The last time I saw my brother he said he was there for me.

That I always have a room at his house.

That he is on my side.

The day before I left, he told me to take my stuff out of his house.

Because things have changed. He and his wife are having a baby.

 

He knew this before he made claims of being there for me.

I know a baby means change, but the baby was only eight weeks in.

I’m happy for him, I guess.

In many ways I don’t care anymore.

I’m okay with that too. Maybe I should care more. But I don’t.

No one needs to seek abuse.

 

In this journey you realize you are alone and somehow have to be okay with it.

There is a shift happening inside me, where I am okay in this loneliness.

Sometimes I’m not.

But I’m more okay than not, right now.

I still cry over all this loss. But that’s okay too.

At least I feel.

 

Mom.

Step-dad.

Dad.

Brother.

All lost. All gone.

 

I have to take care of me, because no one else will.

And as much as this hurts.

It’s okay. I’m okay. I have to believe that.

As I go on to create my own tribe, I stand alone.

But my tribe is my choice.

 

Christmas has changed forever.

But I’m okay.

 

Is this a Visitation Dream?

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Sometimes, when I am desperate to speak to my mother.

When I need advice, or am stuck on something I’ll ask her out loud—I tend to do this when I am alone— to come talk to me in my dreams, so I can consult with her.

 

Most recently, it was over what I should do with my mom’s house. The house I grew up in.

 

The question: “Mom. Should I rescue the house we grew up in from foreclosure?” — Then I waited later that night to dream.

 

How the “yes” and “no” of this will impact me:

 

  • If, “yes”, then that means I’ll have to take out a huge home loan to repair it, so I can rent it or sell it.

 

  • If, “no”, — then we lose it completely and have to pay back taxes on it or sue our dad.

 

In the dream, I was with my mom. Painting the walls of our childhood home. Loving the house and getting it ready for rental. For some reason we decided to paint the walls a chocolate brown, and after we painted it, we didn’t like the result. At the same time we both said, “Why don’t we try a gold overlay?” And we laughed because we had the same thought.

 

Then the dream morphed, into different scenarios, not related to the house. In one case, I was driving a truck along a cliff, and she was my co-pilot. I began to steer in the wrong direction—and she corrected my path.

Or if these are merely dreams?

Do any of you have experiences like these?

 

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Forgiveness Is Overrated

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There’s this notion that life is about forgiveness, but the more I live and look at certain people and analyze certain events in my life, the more I realize that life is about accepting the truth and finding a way to live with it.

 

Take my stepfather.

 

He was in Special Forces.

A well-decorated war vet.

A Mason.

A Shriner.

But deep down, he’s a coward.

 

His true self is:

Abusive.

Mean.

Narcissistic.

He’s a bully.

 

What man hits a little girl, or sends his teenager to jail for an unpaid traffic ticket, or tells her that it’s not his fault she’s all fucked up and no one will marry her?

 

Clearly. I have my demons, but I know deep down in my core. I am not a bad person. I did not deserve his treatment and neither did my mother.

 

But.

 

My mother chose him.

I did not.

My mother stayed him.

I don’t have to.

My mother let him bully her.

I can stand up for myself.

 

The only person I have to forgive in this equation is my mother, for trying to make things work with a sociopath, for not knowing her worth. I’m barely uncovering mine, and in this process, I realize I DON’T have to forgive him, but hold him accountable for the things he’s done. I DON’T EVER have to subject myself to his abuse again, and I have to trust that the TRUTH will prevail; no matter how difficult that is to prove.

 

My soul hurt at not being at not being loved by him.

At not being understood.

At being forced to sit in the sidelines and wonder:

  • What’s wrong with me?
  • What’s made me unlovable?
  • Why I’ve accepted less than I deserve?

But, now I know none of this is my fault.

I am better than that. Better than him.

He does not deserve my love, my forgiveness, or my goodness.

 

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I Stabbed My Dad

 

Last night I dreamt that I was walking in my mother’s house and came across what could only be defined as a cardboard cut out talking version of my dad.

He yelled at me, “What do you want?”

I screamed, “To be your daughter,”

He screamed back, “I’ve done everything within in my power to make you go away. I never wanted you in my life. Leave!”

Enraged, I stabbed this paper cutout with a butcher knife and woke up screaming in sobs.

I guess the pain of his abandonment still runs deep.

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I’ve been so far removed from my emotions that they are coming up in my dreams.

 

There is nothing worse than the betrayal of ones own family.

 

I don’t miss him, but what he did still hurts.   It cuts deep, and maybe that’s what my stabbing was about.

 

He left my brother and I, while under the spell of a seductress, and now our family is left in shambles, including him. My mother has been gone just under three years, but it feels like an eternity. Oh, to have her back.

 

But I’m slowly piecing myself back together in therapy.

 

Any thoughts on what this dream could mean?