Grief at New Years

A lot of the grief accounts on social media are doing stuff about New Years.

One said that she was both missing her old life, and grateful for the new one.  I'm missing my old life, and my life life (except for the wonderful view) pretty much sucks.  I'm all alone.  I had four grief bursts before *noon*, yesterday, right out on the street.  I've been church shopping, sometimes managing two services on a Sunday (and, here, that's not easy), going to Bible studies, "Life Groups," men's breakfasts, dinners (and not just going, but helping), prayer meetings (and, yesterday, the pastor prayed thanks for the new faces and hoped they'd feel welcome--oh, the irony), and I'm getting pretty much zero back (reward? positive reinforcement? recharge? joy? "warm fuzzies"?) at all.  I've helped at the Salvation Army, I'm on board at the hospice society (and am already doing some minor counselling), I'm on board at ESS (although, apparently, there were three "call-outs" over the holidays, and I didn't get any notice of any of them), and I'm even on the Board (for crying out loud) at Literacy Alberni Society (and have proposed two new programs for them).  Almost all of my projects have sunk without a trace: a couple are "promising," but, for now, that's all they are, promising.

One said be gentle with yourself.  OK, I'll try not to beat myself up about the fact that I'm behind in every single area of my life, even accounts; that I'm not getting an awful lot of stuff done; that the five months of really troubled/broken/short sleep since I started preparing for the move seem to be fading (not completely ending), but that I'm now sometimes sleeping (or, at least, in bed) ten hours a night, and getting up late and not getting work done; that I haven't lost an ounce in five months (and, yesterday, the doctor called and took me off the last diabetes medication: the one that helps lose weight) (although I suppose that could be considered an accomplishment: my sugar numbers are amazingly good).  But, does "not beating myself up" actually help anything?  (I suppose it helps not make it any worse than it already is ...)

I've mentioned talking about Gloria's story (or stories) and then there's the fact that (almost) all of my friends have disappeared because they are terrified that I will mention Gloria, or grief, or death, or pain, all of which are taboo subjects in our society (although apparently I've only actually talked about that once).  Here (in PA), I talk about Gloria as well, and I thought it was a bit easier, because people didn't really care that much.  But I've started to realize that I can't talk about Gloria here, either.  Sometimes, when people realize that I'm talking about my dead wife, I can see them get "stiff face" as they realize they have to let me finish talking (it would be horribly rude not to let me finish what I am saying, since I'm bereaved), but, as soon as possible (which is, generally, as soon as I finish what I am immediately saying), the topic is shifted to something else.  (*Anything* else  :-)  Yesterday somebody actually asked who I had lost, but, when I said my wife had died, they commented that that must be hard, and then wouldn't interact with anything else that I said about Gloria.

While writing this I came across: "If we can share our story with someone who responds with empathy and understanding, shame can't survive." (A quote from Brene Brown, whoever that is.)  (My immediate reaction was, that's a big "if.")

Another said to give yourself a pat on the back for surviving the festive period.  OK, yes, that's sort of along the lines of "you have survived 100% of your worst days so far."  Just because you have survived so far doesn't mean that you have enjoyed, will enjoy, or are enjoying any of it.  "Life.  Don't talk to me about life ..."