It is a very gradual process, grieving a spouse. At first, I felt exactly the same in so many ways. Shock was covering the deep wounds I had suffered. It was if I was on a strong pain killer to protect my heart from being overcome.
It came gradually to me that "normal" as I knew it was no longer possible.
And now I know without doubt that there is a "new normal" that will arise from this place of grief. In some ways, I have already found my way in a few areas.
The car broke down and I had the strength to think clearly - I called a few friends. I thought about it. I asked the opinion of a friend who could be objective and he helped me decide if I needed to worry or not. In the end, I felt calm and glad that I made the decision I did. I don't feel emotional and overwhelmed. For that I am so grateful.
Other areas are so much tougher. I deeply miss the physical touch and affection of the relationship with my husband. Our bed seems too big and so wide. People hug me and so forth, but it's not the same.
At the same time, I realize (and this too is gradual), that it has been months and months since I've experienced those things that were everyday occurences: saying "I love you", holding hands as we walked along, being together even if we weren't touching.
I am aware that I was blessed with a loving husband and a good marriage. Despite the deep depression that engulfed my husband and overwhelmed him to the point that he chose death as the way out, he was still a whole, loving person with a personality and history that mattered. Who he was is not dictated by the illness that took his life.
That also comes gradually. With trauma there is a slow process of unraveling the immense gravity of the situation that has happened.
The loss is for the present and the future, but with suicide, it is also a loss of the past. I am now re-evaluating events that happened in the 6 months before my husband died, trying to find the evidence that I missed. Of course, I know now that I still wouldn't have seen it if I did all over again. And even in retrospect, there is very little to go on that is a red flag.
Perhaps it was like my brake lines. He was going along, gradually corroding, then instantly the red brake light came on and the brake fluid drained out. Within 12 hours, I had the car in the mechanic getting fixed or I'd be in big trouble out in the world somewhere.
Now I have to find the answer that fits for me. I have to come to accept the events that led to my husband's death and the facts of his death, however painful it all is. I have to come to peace with the life I have been given. It is not my choice. It is not God's choice, but He will redeem it. I also have to find my place in the "new normal".
I have been pondering this in many contexts: my friendships, my role as a mother, my workplace. I often wonder how I went forward in the way that I was doing things. I feel so burdened with the "old ways" now. I just don't have the strength for it now.
Recently, I joined a Griefshare group at my church. I really love the leader and some dear friends also joined with me. However, after one session I felt uneasy. I realized that I wanted to be more anonymous and feel more free to share things without others knowing the background or the context. I didn't want to be disloyal to my husband. I needed his privacy to be protected. I needed to feel free to share without offending anyone I love. I didn't want to feel I shouldn't talk about another person disparagingly in case it got back to them (not that it would, but hopefully you see what I mean).
I found out that there is another group running in my city, but it's during the day and I work during the day. I called the leaders and they urged me to try to rearrange my work schedule. Suddenly it all fell into place. Although my first reaction was to think it impossible, I realized that I really CAN rearrange my work schedule. I've been advised to take a bit more time off work and I can get a doctor's note. I could include this as part of my rehabilitation (if that's the word I want), and healing.
My boss is supportive and there are things she can do to make sure the work is done when I'm not there, so I don't come back to pile of things.
Suddenly I feel such a sense of relief that I can't even describe. I am so thankful. This seems to be the right direction. It may not be perfect, but it seems right.
It came gradually to me that "normal" as I knew it was no longer possible.
And now I know without doubt that there is a "new normal" that will arise from this place of grief. In some ways, I have already found my way in a few areas.
The car broke down and I had the strength to think clearly - I called a few friends. I thought about it. I asked the opinion of a friend who could be objective and he helped me decide if I needed to worry or not. In the end, I felt calm and glad that I made the decision I did. I don't feel emotional and overwhelmed. For that I am so grateful.
Other areas are so much tougher. I deeply miss the physical touch and affection of the relationship with my husband. Our bed seems too big and so wide. People hug me and so forth, but it's not the same.
At the same time, I realize (and this too is gradual), that it has been months and months since I've experienced those things that were everyday occurences: saying "I love you", holding hands as we walked along, being together even if we weren't touching.
I am aware that I was blessed with a loving husband and a good marriage. Despite the deep depression that engulfed my husband and overwhelmed him to the point that he chose death as the way out, he was still a whole, loving person with a personality and history that mattered. Who he was is not dictated by the illness that took his life.
That also comes gradually. With trauma there is a slow process of unraveling the immense gravity of the situation that has happened.
The loss is for the present and the future, but with suicide, it is also a loss of the past. I am now re-evaluating events that happened in the 6 months before my husband died, trying to find the evidence that I missed. Of course, I know now that I still wouldn't have seen it if I did all over again. And even in retrospect, there is very little to go on that is a red flag.
Perhaps it was like my brake lines. He was going along, gradually corroding, then instantly the red brake light came on and the brake fluid drained out. Within 12 hours, I had the car in the mechanic getting fixed or I'd be in big trouble out in the world somewhere.
Now I have to find the answer that fits for me. I have to come to accept the events that led to my husband's death and the facts of his death, however painful it all is. I have to come to peace with the life I have been given. It is not my choice. It is not God's choice, but He will redeem it. I also have to find my place in the "new normal".
I have been pondering this in many contexts: my friendships, my role as a mother, my workplace. I often wonder how I went forward in the way that I was doing things. I feel so burdened with the "old ways" now. I just don't have the strength for it now.
Recently, I joined a Griefshare group at my church. I really love the leader and some dear friends also joined with me. However, after one session I felt uneasy. I realized that I wanted to be more anonymous and feel more free to share things without others knowing the background or the context. I didn't want to be disloyal to my husband. I needed his privacy to be protected. I needed to feel free to share without offending anyone I love. I didn't want to feel I shouldn't talk about another person disparagingly in case it got back to them (not that it would, but hopefully you see what I mean).
I found out that there is another group running in my city, but it's during the day and I work during the day. I called the leaders and they urged me to try to rearrange my work schedule. Suddenly it all fell into place. Although my first reaction was to think it impossible, I realized that I really CAN rearrange my work schedule. I've been advised to take a bit more time off work and I can get a doctor's note. I could include this as part of my rehabilitation (if that's the word I want), and healing.
My boss is supportive and there are things she can do to make sure the work is done when I'm not there, so I don't come back to pile of things.
Suddenly I feel such a sense of relief that I can't even describe. I am so thankful. This seems to be the right direction. It may not be perfect, but it seems right.
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