Well-meaning

The first rule of grief group is that you don't talk about grief group, but I don't think this gives anything away.  I was talking about the garden, and one of the others said that I should join a garden club, and that I'd gets lots of advice about how and what to garden from the other garden club members.  And I said, though slightly gritted teeth, "I don't *WANT* any more advice."  And all the others in the group smiled slightly and nodded sagely.

When you are bereaved, you seem to be fair game for anyone to think that they can "help" you by offering stupid and facile advice.  And people *do* want to help: as L said when I was pointing this out, "Well, they *mean* well."  Yes, they do.  But did you notice that "well-meaning" is not exactly a compliment?  "Well-meaning" seems to be a generic and all-purpose excuse for when someone does something particularly stupid.

I'm with Job on this.  "Doubtless you are the people, and wisdom will die with you!  But I have a brain as well as you; I am not inferior to you."  (12:1-3)  Job had a really nice turn in sarcasm.  Bereaved people are damaged, they are hurting, their judgment may be questionable in some areas, but they haven't lost their marbles.  Assuming that they have is just another injury to add to their collections of hurts.

As an example, disturbance in sleeping patterns or lack of sleep is one of the most common symptoms or side effects of grief.  I have been suffering from it, and still am, although it seems to be getting marginally better as time goes on.  But the next person who says "melatonin" to me is going to get a poke in the nose.  Yes, I know every patent nostrum and "old-wives" remedy for sleep ailments going.  I have tried melatonin.  (Twenty years ago.)  It didn't work then, and it doesn't work now.  I have tried warm milk.  I have tried a big meal before sleeping.  I have tried no meal before sleeping.  I have tried American antihistamines (which are basically identical to Nytol).  I have tried it/them all and found it wanting.  I am not just ignorant of your particular sleep superstition.

I am getting really, *really*, *REALLY* sick of "advice."  Is it that you are so terrified of silence that you have to rattle off any random thought that comes across your mind in order to fill it?  Silence isn't that bad.  It doesn't kill you. (Worse luck.)  I've had hundreds of hours of silence since Gloria died, and I'm not dead yet.  It's maybe a little lonely, and sometimes I'll cry over the sheer oppressiveness of it, but crying doesn't kill you either.  And sometimes, in the silence, you can think.  Or you can do chores.  Or sometimes just do nothing and rest.

Silence is not as bad as too much "advice."