Dear Blog,
By now you are no doubt wondering where I have suddenly gone. I’ve broken my promise to you to write weekly for this year and you are wondering what the hell happened when I have been going so strong, so far. Wonder no more, dear Bloggie. I have been gutted by grief.
Oh, I know what you are thinking. I should be an old hand at this grief thing by now. After all, I’ve lost so many loved ones over the past 5 years that I note and celebrate a year without a funeral in my annual Christmas letter. Seriously.
I knew that my adult daughter, Mizz J, leaving me to start a new life in British Columbia was going to be tough. After all, she has never lived more than a 15 minute car ride away from me for her entire life. And she spent the last 2 years living with me, again. But I had no idea just how bad it was going to be.
It started with my daughter and her man (who I also love and miss) pulling out of my driveway, for the last time (for the foreseeable future) about a week ago. We’d had a tearful parting, natch, although I was happy to see them start off on this adventure together, and they were happy to be going.
As the vehicle pulled away, I felt…I don’t know how to explain it really…just wrong in my body. I didn’t know what was happening to me physically other than I hated the feeling. Everything was wrong, in my body and my mind. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I was distraught and absolutely at loose ends. It was horrible.
Was I dying? Is this what it feels like? I finally decided I wasn’t dying, so now what do I do?
I reached out on Facebook to people for suggestions on how to cope, and I got plenty of good ideas but truly, I was too upset and distracted to employ any of them at the time.
So, practical me, I cleaned instead. And organized. And wept. And thus worked myself into an exhaustion that left no more room for feeling.
So ended the first day.
It got slowly better after that, dear Blog. I went to work. I went to the 3rd of 3 music festivals I committed to this month. I cleaned more. I organized more. I exercised. I meditated. I journalled about being grateful to have deep, reciprocated feelings for family. I worked my plan for this time that I knew was coming.
I am plagued by high levels of fatigue and body aches, yet. I am forgetful and get distracted easily. Remember that advertisement for pain medication that proclaimed “Because depression hurts”? Well, grief hurts too. But even with all the grief I have experienced, to date nothing has given me physical symptoms like this.
Someone suggested that this episode is so severe because it is a culmination of everything that has gone before, hence the extreme reaction. Could be some (or a lot) of truth to that. I can’t say. All I can say is that I thought I knew what grief was, but dear Blog, I really had no idea how devastating it could be – not only mentally but physically.
Someone said to me that I really wasn’t such a badass after all – that this proved I was only “human”. I agreed with them – I am definitely human.
But I still believe I am also a badass and that the two aren’t mutually exclusive.
Being a badass doesn’t mean you are tough as nails and can’t be affected by anything and never feel deep emotion.
Being a badass means life knocks you down and you keep getting back up.
Being a badass means you push through the pain.
Being a badass means you know that life is both good AND bad and that neither condition lasts forever.
So enjoy the good and gut the bad stuff out, dear Bloggie, even when it’s gutting you.
I’ll be visiting you again soon. I promise.
Rock on,
The WB
You definitely ARE a badass Deb, you knew this time was coming and put a plan in place to deal with it- yay you! I hear you about grief, like depression, hurting physically. I have dealt with clinical depression pretty much all my life so far in cycles…better times and absolutely devastating times. Thank you for this blog post to let everyone know that if they can relate to what you are describing they are not alone. You are not alone either. If nothing else you will have a decluttered and clean space in which to live and all the crying is good for the soul. It has been proven that tears shed when we are under duress contain chemical makeup of things our bodies need to get rid of in order to heal. Keep being your badass self and rock on Deb.
Thank you Susan! Your words mean a lot to me. My blog is not about trying to save the world or any one in it (except maybe me…hehehe) but if even one person can relate and feel less alone by reading my story, then I am fulfilled.
Deb
🙂 You’re welcome.
Someone posted this in the comments to one of my blogs recently:
“Grief I’ve learned, is really just love. It is all the love you want to give but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go.”
I was feeling pretty bad that day it this quote was comforting. I wish I was motivated to clean when I feel that way!
You are, of course, a bad ass. That person didn’t know what they were talking about. Hope your days get better!
That’s lovely Tracey. Thank you so much for sharing (and caring!).
What a powerful statement – grief is love with no place to go.
Hello Deb, I’m sorry you are going through a hard time but you do have the strength to get through. You just need to give yourself some time and you will be back to the badass that we all know. I know when my daughter went to live in the UK for a year (on the other side of the world from Australia), I wondered how I could live without seeing her every day. I love how Tracey wrote in her comment that grief is all the love you cannot give. Take time to be kind to yourself, Deb and know that you have friends who follow your blog who are here for you at any time. Sending you love and hugs from Australia.
Sue from Sizzling Towards 60 & Beyond
Thank you Sue! Your words mean a lot to me. The blogging community is the best. Hugs backatcha 💕
I received a similar quote to Tracey’s: “Grief is LOVE with no place to go.” But you do have a place for your love to go and it’s reciprocated. Your daughter is spreading her wings because of the strength that you have given to her. Although I know that pain (too well) — it also brings great joy in knowing you have created and nurtured a brave and adventurous young woman… who takes you with her in her heart wherever she goes.
Thank you Donna. That is indeed the truth.
I’m at a loss for words to comfort you, Deb. I can’t imagine how deep your loss feels, but I have a huge lump in my throat just thinking about it 💔 Big hugs, my friend.
Thank you very much Joanne! Big hugs backatcha!
The Empty Nest Syndrome evokes such strong emotions. Even though your daughter and her man are leaving for great reasons your pain is real and I admire that you are trying to be proactive against it—the cleaning, the organizing, the reaching out on Facebook for suggestions. You are a bad ass who will get back to your norm but give yourself time. Grief rolls in like heavy fog and rolls out on it’s own schedule. You have friends in the blog-sphere who are cheering your every step forward.
Thank you Jean. The blog-sphere is full of wonderful caring people like yourself and that is a blessing, for sure.
Grief comes in many forms, but you’ve shown the world how to kick life’s butt. Well done.
Thank you AJ. I don’t know about showing the world, but I’m learning more about myself, that’s for sure!
So sorry you are going through this, Deb. What a loss to have your daughter so close and now so far away. I like how you channeled your grief – you could have gone into self destructive behaviors and instead have a clean and organized home. But your description of the physical sensation of grief is poignant. I remember having a chest tightness that lasted for months after the loss of my parents and my sister. I saw my own grief as having a two year old live inside me – an angel one moment when sleeping but a tyrant the next, throwing itself to the floor crying and inconsolable. So unpredictable. I’m glad you are writing about it and have your blog as an outlet. Hugs.
Thank you Molly. I hear you about having the 2 year living inside. Haven’t thrown any tantrums yet, but I can go from cheery to pissy in about 0.04 seconds and that is not my normal.
There is just something really special about the mother/daughter relationship – through all its incarnations. I think having your girl around for two years and the closeness of your relationship has been really special. The loss of that physical closeness, and the loneliness that comes with it can definitely gut a person. It’s going to take time to establish a new normal and grief is part of the process. I guess you just have to feel your way through it – and eventually things will get easier xx
Yes, you are right Leanne. It is already getting easier, thanks so much!
Thank you for your honesty, Deb. I agree with the friend who spoke with kindness about how it’s probably cumulative grief. Life is funny, isn’t it? We never know what’s going to be the thing that has such an effect on us. Best wishes to your daughter in her new adventure and lots of love to you as you mourn the loss of her daily physical presence in your life. It sounds like you’re taking good care of yourself, so please keep doing that.
Thank you Akilah. Life is funny, that’s for sure. And we’re all in this together so we might as well share our human experiences, is my thinking. Good and bad.
Wow, I am so sorry that this move has affected you like this. That was a powerful post and being able to admit your weakness makes you the best kind of Badass. You just need to plan visits (I know, it’s not like you can just drive there). I wish I had words of wisdom for you. We raise our kids to be independent and when they are, it’s tough. I was so happy at my daughter’s wedding, but a couple of weeks later it hit me – we were no longer her primary family. That socked me in the gut and took some getting used to. At least you are putting your energy to good use. Hang in there!!
Thank you Karen! One thing I am known for is hanging in there, sometimes for far longer than I should have 😜.
Hi Deb,
I’m in a strange wordless state these days – fine except for times when I really, really want to say or do something helpful for a friend who is hurting. All I can do though is remind you that I care and that I will always be on the other end of the computer, phone, or in person hug – anytime you need it.
Thank you my friend. Those words are more than enough. 🤗
Deb, thank you for sharing so beautifully the grief you are feeling. As I’ve followed your blog these past few months, I’ve so appreciated your raw truth – you are certainly a BADASS! The grief you are feeling is a testament to your love -I hope in the grief you are able to appreciate the gift!
Thank you Janet! I do appreciate this gift of feeling so strongly, however uncomfortable it may be at times like these.
Aw. I hate that you’ve been plagued with this. I have been having a tough time this summer as well, and so have several other people I know of. At least you threw yourself into cleaning and organizing; I just shut down and don’t want to even move. I really hope you see better, less painful days soon.
Thank you Kim. I wish the same for you.
I’m so glad you’ve shared this. I’m sure it will help a lot of people going throw a similar thing. I know it’s a cliche and I know it doesn’t help in this moment, but things do get better with time. And you are most definitely a “badass”!
Thank you Pat. It is already a lot better although I still miss them like crazy.
To be human IS badass. What’s wimpy is hiding from feelings and cowering inside a stone cold heart. The way you described your grief, I think it came through well to me. It seems it hit you very hard. And of course it’s also physical, since our emotions are tied closely to our bodies. Some day it will pass like changing weather, so enjoy your grief while you can.
Thank you TG! You made a very good point about our emotions being tied closely to our bodies. As someone who spends more time in her head than her body (or so it seems), it does surprise me when I actually notice how my body is reacting to stress or grief.