Up at 2:30 this morning, awake but toting sludge for brains. Is this grief?
Yesterday I felt proud that I could stand with my family and greet everyone that came to Mom’s visitation. Two and a half years ago, when my dad died, I had to sit in a quiet room apart from the others. Like a bipolar queen, I held audience for my closest friends and family so that I wouldn’t explode from the over-stimulation. I felt then like I do this morning—dumb with exhaustion.
I don’t know what I need. I don’t know what could help. The idea of going to the pool makes me want to cry and crawl back into bed. But, I know that’s not the answer. So I’ll go to the pool and bleed some of this weirdness into the water. I’ll feel better afterward. I always do.
Then, I’ll go with my brother and sister to Mom’s lawyer and try to stay present in all the talk about insurance and trusts. I’ll try to watch my anxiety and keep breathing. I’ll try to keep stepping back instead of stepping up. I’ll try to remember that everything will settle without me pushing it.
So, it’s a little easier to carry, this grief/exhaustion/bipolarness, now that I’ve named it and slopped it out in words. I breathe and let my Pandora station hold me. All that pretty music. Like the water in the pool, it supports me.
Pillows and cushions are everywhere. Like this lovely song by Mat Kearney. I can lie down anytime I need.
SandySue Altered
Jun 25, 2014 @ 05:44:33
Thank you, very much, for writing and sharing this post.
Jun 25, 2014 @ 17:24:10
I want to hug that furry tiger-face in your Avatar.
Jun 25, 2014 @ 20:02:21
That’s so great! Now I feel very huggable.
Jun 25, 2014 @ 06:22:39
Hang in there, Sweetie!
Hugs from Ecuador,
Kathy
Jun 25, 2014 @ 17:23:20
Thanks, dolly.
Jun 25, 2014 @ 11:57:40
I understand the need for friends and relatives to express their sorrow and condolences, but IMHO the tradition of Visitation is downright barbaric and abusive to the survivors, who are forced to hold themselves together and make nice instead of being allowed to start their own grieving process. You are totally excused for having sludge for brains on the day after such an ordeal.
Jun 25, 2014 @ 17:23:05
Wow, Carol. That felt just like when I used to wear panty hose and could finally peel them off at the end of the day. What a relief!
Jun 25, 2014 @ 13:15:26
Sending lots of warm thoughts and wishes across the Atlantic for you Sandy Sue.
Jun 25, 2014 @ 17:22:00
Thank you, my friend. A couple more months and I’ll be on your side of the Pond. I need this more than ever.
Jun 25, 2014 @ 13:52:19
I had trouble sleeping for five nights after my mother died. Yes, it’s grief, I believe. Sending you good grieving; it’s bitter and so hard but, oh, so necessary.
Jun 25, 2014 @ 17:19:50
Nice to connect, Deb.
Jun 26, 2014 @ 02:01:47
stay strong
xoxo
Jul 01, 2014 @ 12:06:35
I’ve been away from the blogosphere for several weeks so missed this sad news. I’m so, so very sorry for your loss, Sandy. May your good memories be a comfort to you in this very difficult time.
Jul 01, 2014 @ 19:09:45
Thanks so much, Peg. I hope you were doing something fabulous.
Jul 05, 2014 @ 09:37:32
For me, the social aspect of visitation and the funeral is such a drain to the inner spirit. Healing really begins in the days to come when we can choose to grieve (or not) in our own manner. You will make it through, my friend, just as you have so many other hurdles in your journey. Take plenty of time to rest and nourish yourself with love and patience. This too shall pass…
Jul 05, 2014 @ 14:52:55
I just had this conversation. We need to rethink these cultural/social rituals. When did the family become the hosts for everyone else at a funeral? What happened to neighbors coming over with a casserole?