What would you say to someone whose spouse had died?
On Mother's Day, what would you say to someone who had just adopted?
Yes, it is definitely a minefield. No one wants to be a "Job's friend". I certainly wouldn't have a clue what to say either, if I was in a different position. But now, I'm learning so much...
"It's so nice to see you with your girls..." says someone after my daughter has been hanging on to me for the whole church service (trying to get me to swap seats with her, bored and trying to get me to pay attention to her while I'm trying to participate in the worship time). Meanwhile, I'm tired and grumpy from trying to set boundaries around her. Also, her outburst before we got to church was difficult and I'm wondering how the afternoon will go. Last week the evening ended in screaming and swearing (her, not me!).
Mother's Day was, well, horrible. For children with issues around their birth mother, it's hardly surprising that all the sappy sentiment about mothers sticks in their throats. Instead, I get it in the neck. And my first Mother's Day was a war zone from start to finish. Both my husband and I were pulp by the end of it. This year I resolved the problem by asking someone to take the girls out for the day. They had a great time, and I was able to be alone.
"Are you feeling better now?" (thinking, it's been three months since her husband died, she must be starting to recover). Actually, no. It gets worse not better. The first month I was completely numb, a zombie. Then the anaesthetic gradually wears off, and reality strikes over and over. Every single area of my life is affected by the loss of my husband. We lived and functioned as a team, so his presence has an impact on every area of my life. I see him everywhere. I am overwhelmed by memories which are not yet comforting to me. If anything, they torment me because, now, I re-evaluate everything in view of the end of his life.
The best thing someone has said to me about my husband's death?
"Don't let this moment of his life affect your memories of the whole of his life. He was still the person you married, loved and lived with."
That has helped me through those times when I'm ambushed by the intense loss I have experienced.
When I can't imagine how I will carry on, God reminds me that all I have to do is put one foot in front of the other.
So what would I like people to say: nothing. Really! But if they have to say something, these things have been helpful:
"I can't even imagine what you are feeling" (yes, that's true and I appreciate that you recognize that)
"I am praying for you and your family"
"How can I pray for you and your family?"
"God gave me this verse for you...." (preferably written down because I can't retain much these days).
The flip side of what people say is what I say back. Do I bite someone's head off when they are just trying to make a connection, to let me know they care? Do I walk away and risk offense? At the same time, do I need to consider the feelings of people who are infringing upon my boundaries?
I have been more forthright than ever before since my husband's death. I've actually had to say to people "You need to talk slower because I can't keep up" or "I can't talk about that with you" or "This topic isn't helpful" or "I need to go now because I'm burnt out of social interaction for today".
And how do I handle the person who, very kindly, offers to help ("If you need anything just let me know..."). To be honest, even now I don't know what I need half the time. I am so shell-shocked, so numb at times. I can't plan because my brain is permanently in fog. Some people I can easily ask, and do. Others are harder because I don't know them well or I don't know what they could do. And I will only survive and get through this by accessing the help of others. It's no small job being a single mum, let alone grieving the loss of a husband and dealing with special needs kids. I'll write more about that another time...
I've also had to learn myself out of my propensity to be subtle, sarcastic (another form of anger) and diplomatic. None of those forms of communication work with concrete thinking, delayed and needy children. They need straight talk that pulls no punches and is absolutely clear.
At the same time, they need kindness, firmness and consistency. Yes, I know, I must be superhuman! And of course, I've tried to be that. But I can't. Now I am so weak that I don't know how I can put one foot in front of the other. So I hold on to Isaiah 43:1-4, knowing that the waters will not overwhelm me.
James 3:2
"We all stumble in many ways. If anyone is never at fault in what he says, he is a perfect man, able to keep his whole body in check."
On Mother's Day, what would you say to someone who had just adopted?
Yes, it is definitely a minefield. No one wants to be a "Job's friend". I certainly wouldn't have a clue what to say either, if I was in a different position. But now, I'm learning so much...
"It's so nice to see you with your girls..." says someone after my daughter has been hanging on to me for the whole church service (trying to get me to swap seats with her, bored and trying to get me to pay attention to her while I'm trying to participate in the worship time). Meanwhile, I'm tired and grumpy from trying to set boundaries around her. Also, her outburst before we got to church was difficult and I'm wondering how the afternoon will go. Last week the evening ended in screaming and swearing (her, not me!).
Mother's Day was, well, horrible. For children with issues around their birth mother, it's hardly surprising that all the sappy sentiment about mothers sticks in their throats. Instead, I get it in the neck. And my first Mother's Day was a war zone from start to finish. Both my husband and I were pulp by the end of it. This year I resolved the problem by asking someone to take the girls out for the day. They had a great time, and I was able to be alone.
"Are you feeling better now?" (thinking, it's been three months since her husband died, she must be starting to recover). Actually, no. It gets worse not better. The first month I was completely numb, a zombie. Then the anaesthetic gradually wears off, and reality strikes over and over. Every single area of my life is affected by the loss of my husband. We lived and functioned as a team, so his presence has an impact on every area of my life. I see him everywhere. I am overwhelmed by memories which are not yet comforting to me. If anything, they torment me because, now, I re-evaluate everything in view of the end of his life.
The best thing someone has said to me about my husband's death?
"Don't let this moment of his life affect your memories of the whole of his life. He was still the person you married, loved and lived with."
That has helped me through those times when I'm ambushed by the intense loss I have experienced.
When I can't imagine how I will carry on, God reminds me that all I have to do is put one foot in front of the other.
So what would I like people to say: nothing. Really! But if they have to say something, these things have been helpful:
"I can't even imagine what you are feeling" (yes, that's true and I appreciate that you recognize that)
"I am praying for you and your family"
"How can I pray for you and your family?"
"God gave me this verse for you...." (preferably written down because I can't retain much these days).
The flip side of what people say is what I say back. Do I bite someone's head off when they are just trying to make a connection, to let me know they care? Do I walk away and risk offense? At the same time, do I need to consider the feelings of people who are infringing upon my boundaries?
I have been more forthright than ever before since my husband's death. I've actually had to say to people "You need to talk slower because I can't keep up" or "I can't talk about that with you" or "This topic isn't helpful" or "I need to go now because I'm burnt out of social interaction for today".
And how do I handle the person who, very kindly, offers to help ("If you need anything just let me know..."). To be honest, even now I don't know what I need half the time. I am so shell-shocked, so numb at times. I can't plan because my brain is permanently in fog. Some people I can easily ask, and do. Others are harder because I don't know them well or I don't know what they could do. And I will only survive and get through this by accessing the help of others. It's no small job being a single mum, let alone grieving the loss of a husband and dealing with special needs kids. I'll write more about that another time...
I've also had to learn myself out of my propensity to be subtle, sarcastic (another form of anger) and diplomatic. None of those forms of communication work with concrete thinking, delayed and needy children. They need straight talk that pulls no punches and is absolutely clear.
At the same time, they need kindness, firmness and consistency. Yes, I know, I must be superhuman! And of course, I've tried to be that. But I can't. Now I am so weak that I don't know how I can put one foot in front of the other. So I hold on to Isaiah 43:1-4, knowing that the waters will not overwhelm me.
James 3:2
"We all stumble in many ways. If anyone is never at fault in what he says, he is a perfect man, able to keep his whole body in check."
I have to stop reading. It is 1:00am! Thank you for your open heart, I will continue to read tomorrow night. <3
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