The Grieving Jester

As the document where I write all my blog posts opened, I noticed that in April last year I wrote a post entitled ‘how am I?’ Good question, I thought. So how am I, eighteen months on?  For a lot of the time now, it feels as though I have reached a sense of peace with my grief. That doesn’t mean that I no longer miss B, of course I do, just that I am better at living with the sorrow. I try to accept the sadness when it comes and, mostly, I am able to carry on anyway. Although I still cry it is far less often. Occasionally, I still have a good sob, but quite often now I will only cry for a matter of seconds. I find this a bit strange. What are these tears worth if they only last for such a short time? But they are not crocodile tears, rather a way of letting go of the feelings before picking up where I left off. I think, perhaps, that I’m nearer to what I, wrongly, imagined grief would be like when I contemplated it before B died – a deep feeling of sadness whilst just trying to get...

I notice that in my last post, and a few others, I have used the term ‘letting go’. Although my heart knows I can’t just stop grieving, that I can’t just snap my fingers and stop missing B, I think that’s what my head was secretly hoping for, to be able to just let go of the past and to move into a happy future. But, of course, life isn’t like that! At the moment, I am reading a book called ‘Mindfulness’ by Christophe Andre. It’s a lovely book and I am finding it really helpful; it actually has a chapter entitled ‘Let Go’. In it, he describes letting go as “ just being where we are, being present, with a particular mental attitude. Not trying to be in control or find a solution. Just being there and trusting in what will come. ” I found this so helpful! That is what I am trying to do (and what I was partly grappling with in my last post): to experience the sadness when it sweeps over me whilst avoiding all those skewed, unhelpful thoughts that can fly in from nowhere; to enjoy any happ...

In recent weeks, I have been mulling over various questions and concepts, wondering what the answers are, if there are any… I have already written about how it is widely recognised now that a person does not get-over the loss of a loved one, but instead gets used to carrying her/his grief and develops continuing bonds with the deceased person. Fair enough, I get that, but what I have been wondering about is what do those continuing bonds mean for me. How can / do I have continuing bonds with B? He's dead, and yet there is definitely something about carrying him with me. I guess it's about remembering, or at least not forgetting, what we had together and what made us who we were together, recognising how he shaped the me I am now, or at least the me I was before he died (I wonder whether he would recognise the me I am now...). I carry the memories of the good times we had, and try to remember all the in-between stuff, the precious nitty-gritty of everyday life that we don’t noti...

Whilst away, I was lying on my hotel bed one evening quietly reflecting when I had the thought 'Memories are not enough. Life continues. I need to live in the present.' This made me feel sad as that is all I have of B now, memories. On the other hand, it also made me feel determined - determined to grieve, determined to leave the sadness behind, determined to be able to celebrate all that we had together. Not to forget, that would be impossible, but to continue to live, taking with me all that has enriched my life from our time together. I know that is what he would want for me.  The only difficulty is that, at least at the moment, leaving the sadness behind is still easier said than done! On the plus side, though, I enjoyed my holiday, different though it was, and despite a couple of wobbles. I visited places that I had previously  been to with B and I was able to smile as I thought about some of the happy times we'd  shared in them. Perhaps, this is progress...

Hello, me again, the personification of my author’s grief! I haven’t been around for a bit as my author thought she was doing okay, getting on a more even keel. At the moment, I am agitating her, though. She is realising that I am making myself much more complex now. For the first year after B’s death she pretty much experienced me at face-value, ‘what you feel is what you get’, the raw grief, the sorrow, the vulnerability. She had been getting used to me. I had become her strange friend, sometimes provoking feelings of terrible loss, sometimes comforting, mostly anything in between, but always there in the background whatever she was doing. Now though, I am making it all so much more complicated and I am confusing her. Her thought processes are whirling round and around, and she is wondering whether she is projecting me onto other things in her life, and if so why? I then make her question what is going on: “Is it because I’m finding it hard to express how I’m feeling now?”, “Am I try...

This has been an odd week in that I don’t really know how I am or what I am feeling! I have had highs and lows, with everyday life in between, but it all just seems a bit unreal at the moment. I wasn’t going to write a blog post. What was there to say, except that which I’ve already said? Then, though, I came across a couple of things that stirred a reaction within me. The first was an article ( https://whatsyourgrief.com/six-word-stories-statements-and-exclamations-a-journaling-exercise/ ) about using six-word stories, describing them as “perfect little bite-sized emotional expressions”. This took my fancy, so I decided I would try to write one for each day since my last post: Tuesday: Conflict between sorrow and happiness continues. Wednesday:  Mired in grief – what’s the point? Thursday: On my own; regaining my equilibrium. Friday: Party time, fun but overwhelming.  Saturday: Friends bring happiness, despite the enervation. Sunday: Church: up and down I go! Monday: Invit...

  Up until recently, I had thought I was doing reasonably well! I think it’s fair to say, though, that during the last couple of weeks I have felt in a degree of turmoil. I have had some really good, enjoyable times out - lunch with a friend, watching the Jubilee Flypast from Trafalgar Square, a lovely and fun walk with friends, attending the Jubilee Concert, and so forth, and sometimes, I have even found myself singing in the shower again. So, it’s not as though I haven’t felt happy, and yet I have also just had this sense of general glumness a lot of the time, and there have been a couple of times where I have just been flung back to that black void where I’ve found myself hugging B’s cardigan and crying my heart out. I have been trying to work out what has been going on - I don’t like being like this.  Sleep definitely affects how I feel, and I am noticeably less resilient when I am tired. For some reason, for the past couple of weeks or so, I have reverted to getting only ...