Depression and Anxiety Are My Special Needs Children

( ... and yet another cross-posting.) (I struggled with whether to put this here, because it doesn't pertain to Rob. And it doesn't pertain to grief ... not really. But it does have to do with depression and anxiety and that, my friend, is a lovely thing called "byproduct" of grief. More 'shadows of grief' you might say...  Tell me if you think this was inappropriate here. Thanks.)

 

Movies I watch can inspire me to write or paint or sculpt.

But some only create the longing for it, and not the release – like the nightmares where you can’t scream but know that if you try with all that is in you, you could make enough noise to cast your voice out among the billions who also trudge this land.

There’s an ache – when I feel unable to create my art -- a loneliness that wiggles inside my brain so that it hurts, and my throat so that I cannot communicate.

My fingers are frozen at the page, clamped desperately around the pen. My breath stops as I wait for the timid kernel of inspiration to share itself through me – but alas, it is not Inspiration or Idea or even Plot Device that appears  … it is: Clamminess, Brick Wall, Pettiness, Fatigue, and Not Good Enough.

The metallic sour taste of lethargy and self- judgment sit with me when the longing to create art is strongest. I’ve sat with and asked these soul-sucking companions why they visit. I sometimes get a response and sometimes not.

I wonder how to get rid of them – like they are the slugs on my sugar snap peas that eat holes before I get a taste.

But perhaps I should simply share space with these evil shadows of myself and honor their place in my house. What if I extended love to them, accepted them and knew there was an ancient lesson they came to teach me, if only I would listen --  like the hundreds of thousands of families with special needs children?

Depression and Anxiety are my special needs children. I court them, suckle them and find their triggers to tantrums. I sit with Depression and rock him to sleep with haunting music lilting from the iTunes across the room; I coax Anxiety out to play -- break out the glue and treeless paper and collage until she is more grounded.

I discover their strengths and weaknesses and take time out for myself when they become too much for me to bear alone. I nurture myself with popcorn and movies under the feather blanket, hot tea with a friend, or an afternoon alone at a coffee shop with my laptop and latte. And I think. I take time to Feel.

When I do this -- when I give myself permission to emote -- only then am I open enough to welcome ideas and plans and as-of-yet formless characters into the sacred circle I have created for them.  Only then am I able and willing to give birth to their stories.

But that’s not right either. I am always willing. That yearning and longing to write and to create are always there. But maybe the readiness is not.

Maybe I must coddle my children, Depression and Anxiety before I can create. But … I don’t believe that one must be depressed or suffer anxiety attacks in order to create art. Art lives in us, we breathe it as air and it binds to the molecules within us. We bleed our art. We are art.

Perhaps I don’t need to be depressed to create art, but that if I am struggling with it at some particular time, I must sit with it first before I attempt to express an emotion I do not yet understand. Only if I take time to nurture myself, to Think, to Feel, to ask Depression why he had another nightmare, to ask Anxiety why she cried today when the house was a mess – maybe then I can unfreeze my fingers and find my voice and let it roar with all the passion and longing and creativity I have.

And then, I can create. I can write, paint and sculpt. I can communicate and breathe and love myself again. All the parts of me. Even the shadowy parts.

The Functionality of Grief

I just wanted to send out an apology to my readers of this blog.

It seems that I only feel compelled to write in my grief blog when I feel grief. (Go figure.)

Lately I am immersed in the holidays, family vacations, catching up with the laundry and dishes after the family vacation, a four day weekend, and Imbolc is tomorrow. A new hamster has arrived in our home, more holidays are coming, two birthdays coming up, and Valentine's Day plus my anniversary to my husband.

Lots of stuff is on my mind (oh and I'm reading my book club book, trying to edit a bit of my manuscript every week and start sending out query letters for magazine articles, too), so I am not currently in a state of grief.

It comes in waves, and it seems that this blog will come and go in waves, too. Though, for grieving readers, I understand that that is not the nurturing hand-holding that you need right now. If you need to connect and there isn't a new post for two months ... how can you feel connected?

So, here is my proposition.  You can comment on any of these postings in this blog and I will find it and email you back. If you choose a non-public forum, you may email me direct. You may comment on a posting, saying you want a private email. I will email you privately, thereby giving you my email address.

You can also check out my other blogs where I write about other aspects of my life. You will see subtle cross-overs into grief, because so much of what we encounter during our lives is tainted with grief. It can be a shadow that clouds out our peace during certain days, or months, or always.

This is not to say that you will always be depressed and weepy and unable to function on a daily basis because of your grief. But that you will wear your grief with grace. It touches (perhaps that is a better word than 'taints') pieces of your life and becomes a part of who you are.

I can't always think of milestones in my children's lives, without also thinking about Rob and his absence. Sometimes I am melancholy about it, other times I think: What a character! He would've loved this. And then I laugh.

Sometimes I remember his love for me and I feel sorrow that I don't have that now. True, I have a different kind of love, from a different kind of man and I have love for him. And, I don't have Rob's love anymore. Not in this realm, at least.

Sometimes I reach out into that other realm and connect, even for the briefest seconds. It brings a calm, snuggly feeling that reminds me that I am never alone. That his love really is there, even if I don't experience it every day.

But maybe I don't experience it because I don't reach out more often. But if I did that, would my husband now be affected? Would our relationship be affected? Would it diminish if I thought too much about Rob? Would it stagnant my growth as a person if I clung to the past? A past that can never be returned to me.

So are my thoughts this morning ... along with: it is lunchtime and I don't want to fix lunch for me and the children (Paul is a work), and we are going over to a friend's house to do some work on her house and I'd much rather get in sweats and pretend I can knit. :)

I hope you are well in spirit today.

Just for today.

Tomorrow is in the future, and we will only focus on today.

Just today, feel peace.

Namaste.

A new kind of grief

This is my sister and brother-in-law. My nephew is on the tractor and my nieces are the two girls 'inside' my own children. (My son is in yellow hugging his cousin and my daughter is on the other end, hugging her cousin.)

This is what my sister sent me in an email tonight:

"Well...I am starting to limit what I do and who I associate with outside of the witnesses....unfortunately that means, it also limits what I do with you and Mom. It is tearing me up inside...But Jehovah is important to me. I know that we have talked about this in the past..but I have been thinking about it a lot, for a long time. I originally thought that the purpose of not talking to disfellowshiped ones ( or ones that don't want anything to do with the witnesses-basically disfellowshiping themselves) was to help them come back; but now I understand differently. I want you to know that I LOVE you very much, and I am very sorry that I haven't actually talked about this to your face, in person. I will still talk to you about family type stuff..I just can't chat about nothing. I will be canceling my MSN messenger too.

I am forwarding this to Mom also, If you guys want to call me and talk about this...or say "good-bye" that is fine. But please don't try to talk me out of it. It hurts a lot as it is..."

I'm extremely pissed, hurt, angry and I ache for my children.  This is something that has actually been going back and forth for long years with my sister and me, and I can file it away under 'shitty things that have happened to me', but I am very sad for my kids who will not be allowed to visit, contact or get to know their cousins.  

It's wrong.  And she is wrong for doing this to us.  And it stinks.

And I miss her already.

Remembered Emotions through a Picture

I missed you a lot yesterday, Rob.

I was gathering pictures to put on a Love Altar to celebrate upcoming Valentine's Day and ran across this one. I stared for the longest time, running my finger along your face.

I put it on the altar along with pictures of Aubrey and Joey now and when they were much much younger.  

There's pics of my new family, yes, but you are still on my love altar.

Understand the six needs of mourning

From the same book I mentioned before ("Healing your Grieving Heart" by Alan D. Wolfelt, PhD), comes another list that just knocked my socks off. But not if you just skim it.

Each of these needs we have (while we are mourning), have an activity to do that Alan Wolfelt believes will help your healing process do its thing. Really read the statement and do the 'homework' associated with it.

And let me know if it works for you, please. One of my favorite quotes from Alan is: "Grief is a process, not an event." Let's work through this process together.

 1. Acknowledge the reality of the death.

~gently confront yourself

~it may occur over weeks and months (this is ok)

~acknowledge your loss with your head and then your heart

~keep in mind that integration comes in doses, as you are ready

Tell someone about the death today. This will help you work on this important need.

  2.  Embrace the pain of the loss.

~we don't naturally want to do this -- it's easier to avoid

~this is how you learn to reconcile yourself to it

~dose yourself on embracing your pain as you need to -- you can't do it all at once.

Reach out and spend time with someone who doesn't try to take your pain and sense of loss away.

 3.  Remember the person who died.

~he/she lives on through our memories

~actively remember and commemorate the life that was lived; it's healthy

~never let someone else try to take your memories away (trying to help you); it's good for    you to continue to display those pictures.

~remembering the past makes hoping for the future possible.

Brainstorm a list of characteristics or memories of the person who died. Write as fast as you can for ten minutes, then put away the list for future reflection.

 4.  Develop a new self-identity.

~part of who you are was formed by the relationship you had with that person that died.

~the way you defined yourself and the way society defines you has changed (ex: wife                       to widow)

~re-anchor yourself, reconstruct your self-identity. This is long and hard work.

~you may discover some positive changes as you work on this (more caring,                                     less judgmental, more strong)

Write this statement down:  I used to be ________________.  Now that ______ died, I am _______________.  This makes me feel ___________________.

 5.  Search for meaning.

~naturally you will now question the meaning and purpose of life and death (particularly this one that you are now grieving).

~Why and How questions may surface uncontrollably. (Why did this happen? How will I go on living?)

~question philosophy of life, explore different religions and spiritualities

~"Blessed are thos who mourn for they shall be comforted." Even if you have faith, you still need to mourn.

Write down a list of 'why' questions that have come up for you since the death. Go through them with a friend or counselor who won't feel she has to give you all the answers.

 6.  Receive ongoing support from others.

~we need the love and understanding of others to heal.

~don't feel ashamed of your dependence right now; revel knowing others care for you.

~society places too much value on "doing well" and "carrying on" that we lose support too 

soon.

~grief is a process not an event. You will need support for weeks, months and years.

Friends want to help but don't know how. Call them and tell them you'll need help 

in the coming weeks.

Things To Do Together With The One You Love

This list is the sort of thing you would want to have before your partner dies.

I, thankfully, had made this list while Rob was still living. Mind you, we did only three or four of the things on the list -- but I wrote it with him in mind. And then when I found it tucked in an old journal after his death, it was a secret little gift of a memory.

So, thank you to whoever helped me find my old list.

And here's a copy for you. Maybe you have one tucked somewhere, too. Or maybe you can make a list of the things that you did do together, or maybe you can make a list of the things you wished you had done together. That would be a healing gift to yourself right now.

Blessings and Peace to you, Reader.

And now here is my list:

Things To Do (or Wish You'd Done, or You Had Done) With The One You Love

 1.  feed the ducks at the park (but don't bring bread 'cuz that makes the ducks sick)

 2.  make a picnic lunch and explore a beautiful place we've never been and eat our lunch there

 3.  go hiking

 4.  go on a scavenger hunt

 5.  go fishing under a covered bridge

 6.  plant a garden

 7.  write a story about ourselves

 8.  jump in a river together

 9.  go to the coast and eat clam chowder

10. go dance in the fields and pick wildflowers

11.  pick somewhere and plant wildflowers

12.  go visit botanical gardens

13.  go to the zoo

14.  go camping

15.  leave notes in fun places

16.  build a collage together

And Gramma Follows

I just got the call that my gramma died tonight. I was trying to figure out a way to see her tomorrow. I was there visiting today. I was there maybe an hour total. 

She asked me (one of the few coherent things she said the whole time I was there) to stay until hospice could get there to bathe her, and I had to say, "No." I had a meeting with Robert's web academy teacher. I felt yucky about not staying with her when she asked, especially now that she's died tonight, but I'm happy that I went and saw her today.

I had this fantasy that I would be there with her when she died, but just told my mom this morning that if it didn't happen, I would be at least content that I'd been visiting up until she died. (But that's not entirely true. I hadn't been visiting. My record has been pretty much nil, until I would say October. (possibly September). 

I visited once in October, once in November, once last week and today. After seeing her today and talking with the staff at the assisted living place she was at, I had decided to see her as close to daily as I could before she died -- knowing that she most likely had less than a week to live.

So. That was my brilliant "visiting my gramma before she died" record.

It was difficult to understand most of what she said to me today. I did catch, "You and I come from the same place ... But that's not right .... " Was she talking of the spirit realm?

I told her: "I know that you and I believe different things, but I believe that you and I will see each other again. In a different life. We'll be together again."

It looked like she nodded. Or maybe it was just a tremor.

I gave her Reiki while I was there today. I tried talking to her spirit and telling her silently that she could leave whenever she needed to.

In tears I remember my grandmother. She was such a neat lady. Truly one of a kind. With all the neuroses and creative angst one would expect from a woman writer that wasn't supported very much in her art.

I love you, Gramma. Find peace and health in your next life, and remember me. As I will remember you.