I Hung Up But I Couldn't Hang On

It was a beautiful chilly mid-October afternoon when I got the call. Breathe. Take a breath...now! Again. Don't panic. Stay calm. This isn't real. I kept trying to convince myself it was just a dream, but the screaming maniac inside me refused to be silenced, while the startling reality continued to choke  all of the breath out of my languishing lungs. I kept my eyes closed and my hands clasped tightly in my lap, as shock coursed through my body like a swift hungry cheetah going in for the kill. That phone call lasted less than a minute; but that was all it took to yank me into oblivion and suck the life from my stunned and injured heart.

Additional details from my experience really don't matter. Just about anyone reading this could fill in the blanks with their own personal traumatic experience: Death of a friend or loved one, a spouse filing for divorce, diagnosis of a life threatening disease, financial ruin, a devastating accidental injury, crime victimization...all of these and many more can blindside the heart and mind, leaving one plummeting head first down the  tenebrous, bottomless pit of grief. 

There are really no words to adequately describe what follows; disbelief, fear, anger, numbness, deep consuming sadness, uncontrollable tears, and an overwhelming need to shut down and check out. The mind may be constantly bombarded with disturbing sounds or images, or the haunting thoughts of "if only" or "what if?", while random snatches of sleep come only with the succumbing to complete physical and emotional exhaustion. There is no timeline or agenda for healing. Days and weeks, turn into months and years. Eventually, life does go on, but nothing will ever be the same. Grief brings to life a new awkward normal.

I can't speak for anyone else...I'm not a professional, and I only have my own experience to go on. However, for me healing has come gradually over a long period of time. Here are three things I found to be very helpful in the process:

1. It was, and still is, imperative that I look out for myself. I had to work hard to make sure I got plenty of rest. Sleep was sporadic at best, but I could at least lie down and read or watch something on TV, listen to some soft peaceful music, or just stare at the wall. Down time was essential to my emotional healing and my physical well-being. The more I rested, the better I was able to cope with all that I had to deal with in the following days, weeks and months. I had to make sure I regularly ate something even though I had no appetite. I kept nutritional drinks on hand in case that was all I could tolerate. With time, my appetite returned and eating was a little less of a chore.
2. I gave myself plenty of time and very little expectation. I had little energy or motivation. There were a host of things that needed my attention, but I accepted outside help with things that could be delegated so I could focus on immediately pressing matters. I kept a list and just took care of them as I was able. The list was necessary as I had a difficult time remembering what needed to be addressed, with whom I was to address it, and whether or not it had actually been taken care of. It wasn't a perfect system, but it relieved a lot of anxiety and mounting stress, and those I was dealing with were patient when something occasionally fell through the cracks.
3. Build a support system. This can be family members, close friends, members of a church congregation, co-workers. and/or a therapist. I found it difficult to go out in public. The possibility of running into a casual acquaintance sent me running in the other direction. I was a mess; uncontrollable tears flowed too freely, and my range of emotions varied so much that I couldn't guarantee I could keep myself together for any type of conversation. Having people I could process with and cry on helped immensely. With time it became a little easier, but my support people were always just a phone call away...any time day or night. I also chose to go to therapy, as sometimes, like the swift undercurrent of a river, my grief swept me into uncharted territory. I found it helpful to have the guidance of someone who had the tools necessary to get me back on my feet, and continue in the safety of the healing process.

It's coming up on five years now. Looking back, I'm amazed at how far I've come, how much I've learned and how much I've grown. The pain still rears it's ugly head occasionally, but mostly it's overshadowed by a feeling of gratitude and dulled to a level I can handle without being completely overwhelmed. I'm still adjusting somewhat to my new "normal" and occasionally my head runs away with the longing to be free of the emotional scars that will forevermore be with me. Mostly, I'm grateful they aren't visible to the general population, but sometimes I feel like I'm carrying a deep dark heavy secret. At times, I need to be alone. Other times I need to be around people. But always I feel the love of God.

Grief is harsh. Healing is arduous...but So. Worth. It.

I'm all in! Are you with me?