I slipped into a numbness pattern this week – a lack of motivation, wish the days were over, kind of dragging. I’ve admittedly done a lot of napping. I know this is a phase of grief. I’m coming down, or up, from something. I can’t put my finger on it or name it just yet. This post is a little less clean ... more a compilation of thoughts, revelations, loose experiences from my notes over the many weeks since my twins died.
*** Grief is messy, unclean, non-linear. Grief is different every day, hour, minute. Grief doesn’t just look sad, angry, shocked, bargaining, or accepting. Grief encompasses every emotion. Grief buries itself into all parts of your life. Grief strokes each moment that you live without them. Grief is dreaming in too many colors or no color at all - dreaming with fear and reliving death, or dreaming with visits and hopefulness. Grief is opening your eyes, staring at the ceiling or the wall and remembering what your life really is. Grief is rolling over and trying to sleep for another few minutes, another hour. Grief is everyday negotiating whether or not to nurse your own broken heart or to honor their memory by living. Grief is mascara stains on your pillow. Grief is letting more tears fall then you knew you could produce. Grief is puffy eye sockets, red-rimmed and bulging. Grief is running out of tears. Grief is dry numbness when you explain what happened. Grief is having a different kind of day every day, all while doing the same things over and over. Grief makes the minutes feel long but the days seem short. Grief is recognizing the exact shape of your physical existence. Grief is feeling fuzzy brained, struggling to converse, forgetfulness absence from the moment. Grief is painful awareness of silence. Grief is forcing a smile. It’s listening to yourself talk to people from some inner echo-ey hole, detached. Grief is struggling to listen well to others. Grief is experiencing moments of truly being alive and then turning around to see a mirror that reflects someone other than you. Grief is realizing your reflection is forever changed. Grief is realizing that your heart held more love than you imagined. Grief is feeling the borders of your heart as it expands and breaks. Grief is needing someone, anyone, to agree that things will never be okay. It’s needing people to just tell you that you are not alone, that they are with you, that it’s okay that you will never really be okay. Grief is knowing that, no not everything happens for a reason, no something better will not come of this, and no I don’t have an option to not “be strong.” Grief is knowing that even if life is beautiful, even if you use your pain for some greater good, that it would have been just as beautiful (or more so) if they had lived. Grief is accepting that fact and still choosing to live kindly and bravely and with honor for them. Grief is rehearsing a new way of living until it becomes familiar enough to cover your scars. Grief is knowing that time is divided, your identity is divided, your self is divided into before and after they died. And not just because time moves forward, grief doesn't care about time, but because you can clearly outline the eras of your life based on their existence and their absence. Grief is loving with every ounce of your being, despite separation. Loving is living - loving is the whole point of living. Grief is still living. It’s just messy living. *** Feel free to comment – to add what grief is like for you or what 'grief revelation' you have had. Every experience is unique and the only way we can get closer to understanding the expansiveness of life after loss is to talk to each other about it.
8 Comments
Erika
8/11/2016 10:43:21 am
I know this is a different kind of grief, but since my MDD diagnosis after Adeline was born, I spent a lot of time in the dark, numb, treading water phase. Recently I have begun a grieving process. Except I'm grieving myself--does that make sense? I am grieving the loss of who I was before this stupid disease began taking over my life. This song has been on replay for me the last week, which has been extra hard. Thank you for sharing your soul, Tiff. Our experiences are different, but grief is an odd sort of lifeline isn't it? It connects us. Love you.
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8/11/2016 02:08:04 pm
Oh my dear sweet friend, yes. Yes it makes sense and yes grieving your self can definitely bring on the same states. After we lost Rachael I grieved her and also who I had been before she died. I grieved the knowledge that I was forever changed until I could embrace it. Less so with the babies, mostly because I knew motherhood would change me and I wanted to embrace that from the get-go. So I still grieve myself but more because I can't fully be authentic to who I am now (a mother) without them here. When I was doing therapy I tried to express to client's how grief was an additional process along with their diagnoses ... especially when it came on later in life. So here it is - you are not alone. Thank you for reaching out and reminding me that, although different, I am not alone either. Hugs to you.
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Mary koloroutis
8/11/2016 10:08:30 pm
Grief has shattered me and numbed me. The loss of my me loved father and mother turned me inside out for years. I could not reconcile that life seemed to march on and they were gone. I missed daily phone calls, knowing I always had a safe place, knowing I could be just me and loved fiercely no matter what was going on in my life. I had to grow up and try to become that safe haven for those who need me, The greatest grief is seeing your children struggle, suffer, make mistakes that shatter their lives...the heartbreak is physical and the feelings helpless. I woulda take it on if I could and protect them from hurt and loss ...and I can't. Your grief and your willingness to look it square in the eye is a precious gift my dear sweet Tiffany. I love you.
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Tiffany - lossandlife
8/12/2016 08:01:47 am
This is beautifully described! Thank you for sharing your own pain, and for always loving my through mine. I love you so much! Xoxox
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Ann rockers
8/12/2016 11:24:21 am
Very point on. You should as I've said many times compile these writings in a book. Grief is the strongest emotion in my opinion that we as humans experience . It has the capability of stretching us in ways we could never imagine. It's the ability to survive and endure when you have no other choice. It's also playing the "what if game" only to warn yourself you promised to never do it again...it's many many things. I love you dear.
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Tiffany - lossandlife
8/12/2016 02:13:50 pm
So well said - between the "what ifs" and the heartache it can become hard to see how we are surviving. Thank you for your support always. I love you so much.
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Mollie O'Dell
8/16/2016 08:16:51 pm
Grief is that feeling in the pit of your stomach when you wake up in the morning and reconcile yourself to the reality that you will cry in public today. Grief is the great equalizer.
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AuthorHi, I'm Tiffany. I believe in the power of stories to connect us to each other. I write about life after loss and all the love, longing, and learning that comes from it. Grief is big, love is bigger. My newest stories are about motherhood (after both infertility and loss). In my experience, love doesn't get bigger than motherhood. Categories
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