Complicated Grief

[DavidOz]

To anyone who reads this, thank you for taking the time to do so. 

It's getting on towards 12:30 AM now, and yesterday (Monday) was one of the bad days. I never know when the bad days will occur, only that it is inevitable that they will. When they do life seems pointless and death welcome. It isn't that I want to die mind you, just that I want the pain to stop. Most of the time I'm able to keep my emotions at a distance, only experience life mentally, but eventually they always get to me in the end.

Mum died approximately thirteen months ago. For the first six months or so I appeared to be coping quite well, but then something 'snapped' inside me, and I've never been truly okay since. Now I go out only when I have to, for things such as work and shopping, the rest of the time I stay home. Just the thought of going out overwhelms me.

I teach - not children, adults - and it has been one source of salvation for me. When I am teaching I can forget about everything, even on those bad days - though it's touch and go whether I'll make it out the door, and admittedly there have been a few times when I didn't. When I'm in the classroom nothing else matters. But within minutes of the students leaving, well, the shadows crowd in again. 

Writing is my other salvation, something that for some reason I find far more helpful than talking, hence this post. I've been thinking for a few months now about joining a grief forum, tonight I felt so strongly the need to reach out, to be heard by someone who can truly understand, that I finally went ahead and did exactly that. So here I am, and my question is "Am I suffering from complicated grief?"  

It has been over a year and yet when I do allow myself to think about mum the pain is as fresh as if she died today. I cannot bear to remember being by her hospital bed when it happened, I find it too devastating. So I fight the thoughts, push them away, and most days I succeed. But if I happen to come across a photograph, or even paperwork related to my mother, over the next few hours emotions begin pushing their way to surface, and eventually they overwhelm me. Then I lose control, and end up weeping uncontrollably, desperately wanting her back, if only for day, just one more chance to tell her how much I love her. 

Not that mum was easy to love, believe me she wasn't. One moment mum could be quite reasonable, nice even, but in the time it took her to walk to another room and return her mood could change dramatically. It has been suggested by a few mental health professionals that there is a high possibility that she had an undiagnosed mental illness, for example something such as bipolar disorder. There's no way of knowing for sure, but as you may imagine childhood was a nightmare to say the least.

Nonetheless, I loved her - and do still love her - and when she could no longer live alone, I became her main carer. As one psychologist I saw pointed out, I ended up having my abuser live with me. But what else was I to do? I would never have survived the guilt of having her go into a home. In effect, I chose the lesser of two evils, which in hindsight actually turned out to be the right choice after all. This was because, in her final months, it was as if only the good mother had survived, that poisonous part of her seemed to be the first to go. Which of course made it all the harder when she did die, double edged sword really. 

Some nights I do not sleep. It will be 5am, even as late as around 9am, before I can finally can. I've been prescribed Stilnox - don't worry, I have experienced none of the negative side effects - and that is water off a duck's back on those nights. Other nights I do sleep, sometimes as much as 10 or 12 hours, but I know that still I'm suffering the effects of sleep deprivation. Last night, for example, it took me about 10 or 15 minutes to figure out why I couldn't do up the zip of the inner waterproof lining of my motorcycle jacket; finally realized it was inside out. Maybe one day I'll look back and laugh about things like this - I hope so - but right now it just makes me feel so very weary. 

On bad days I think about taking my own life, which right now is making me cry. I really do not want to die, but the pain of continuing to live on at times like this seems far too much to bear. Life itself, it seems pointless, empty. What I have come to realize is that when my mother died I lost the center of my life. She had become my purpose for living and now I cannot seem to find a new one. 

Regarding killing myself, I do not want to cause concern. I'm not in imminent danger. I am doing my best to keep going. But I would be lying if I wrote it was still the absolute impossibility that I once considered it to be. In the past few months my thinking has shifted towards it being something I can contemplate actually doing. The possibility seems far more real than it has previously, which to be frank I do find frightening. However, I'm not there yet. And if I do ever get to the point of actually putting things in place to do it, I have promised one of my closest friends that I will contact him and give him the chance to talk me out of it.  

Shortly after my mother died I was contacted by a grief counsellor. We met a number of times and I have great respect for her, I think she is very good at what she does. But neither her, nor the psychologist, were able to help me. In the end, the psychologist I simply couldn't afford to keep seeing. As for the grief counsellor, there was a week when I just wasn't able to face talking about mum, so I postponed the session. I haven't been able to bring myself to start them again.

Even though it is now almost 3am, I know that if I go to bed I won't be able to sleep, but I think I have written more than enough. Thank you again for reading this. It means a lot to know that this will be read by those who can truly understand what I'm struggling with, as well as the fact that you won't tell me to get over it and get on with it, as some have done. I'm not looking for anyone to make me feel better, I just needed to reach out to someone, and it has been of some comfort doing so.  

Take care,

David.

[Alley]

Hi David, I just sent you a personal message.

[reader]

Dear David,

My deepest condolences and sympathies. I am very sorry for your loss. Thank you for sharing your mum with us. Please know you are not alone. We are all here to listen and support you in anyway we can.

I found these websites very helpful. What's Your Grief and The Grief Healing Blog.

Take care of yourself the best you can. Day by day, moment by moment. Sending you all my thoughts and prayers.

[Zita]

Hi David...please hang in there...have you thought about seeing your GP? Could you be suffering from depression? Please do seek help, even the strongest people need support some times. 

[DavidOz]

Hello Reader:

Thank you for the kind and supportive words, they are genuinely appreciated.

My apologies for not responding sooner, it's been a particularly busy week at work. I'll take a look at those websites first chance I get.

Thank you again,

Kindly,

David.

[DavidOz]

Hello Zita:

Thank you for taking the time to reply to my post, both your encouragement and advice are greatly appreciated.

Actually, your suspicion that I might be suffering from depression is absolutely correct. I've struggled with cyclical episodes of depression since childhood.

I consider myself as being anything but weak, if I were I'd never have survived past childhood. In fact I've had two different therapists remark, "How is it that you're still alive?" - very validating I must say. However, I've never had a thick skin. I always feel like I'm walking around without anything standing between me and the world. So I am exceptionally vulnerable when it comes to negative events. Not surprising then that Mum's death has been so devastating for me.  

In the past I've done the round of mental health professionals, counselors, pastors, psychologists, and even a psychiatrist, all without any long term results. So many false hopes. I've tried so many things, for example Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT), Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR), even Tapping. 

I'm not saying that any of these treatment methods are ineffective, because for a lot of people they most definitely do work. However, as one of my closest friends who actually became a qualified psychologist explained, these approaches tend not to be of value for those with major trauma until after its effects have been reduced to more 'normal' levels. I think that EMDR can be the exception, though only in regards to treatment of the 'typical' form of PTSD. The problem is that you have to be able to recall a traumatic event during an EMDR session in order for it to be processed. As I have a very fragmented childhood memory this has proven to be impossible to achieve.  

My experience with all of the different treatments I've gone through is that these methods are akin to being given a water pistol to fight a forest fire. What I need is an externally based process, one which does not rely on my ability to make it work. Which brings us to anti-depressants. I've been prescribed Prozac, and one or two other types that I cannot currently remember. They all had zero effect on me, not even side effects. In fact, caffeine has a far more dramatic effect on me than those drugs ever did. Unfortunately though that high never lasts, or I'd have it everyday. 

So, basically, I just have to keep doing what I've been doing, gritting my teeth and repeatedly reminding myself that this too will pass, as has every other depressive episode. This one is just deeper and longer than any before it, or at least I hope that's the case. 

Nonetheless, I have reached out to my grief counselor again, just waiting to hear back from her. I want to discuss with her whether or not I am indeed suffering from complicated grief. It was writing on here that enabled me to take that step, to renew contact, for which I thank Grieving.com and all those who have taken interest in what I have posted. Even just seeing that people have viewed my posts makes a difference.

Thank you again for your response Zita, and all the best to you in your grief journey.

Take care,

David.

[The Girl]

I'm glad to hear this culminated into you taking another step forward.  At least personally, I know those moments in between each step can feel like you're lost.  I can relate to your feelings of not wanting to die but anticipating it to be easier.  I have no ambition for a long and "happy" life since my mom passed 3 months ago.  But all in all, it isn't my time.  I have my own things to live for, and loved ones to consider.

What struck me in your post was you stated your mom was your purpose and you're struggling to find a new purpose.  Yet you also spoke of teaching as being your salvation.  I don't know if that was meant to be read as your distraction, but I took it as being more meaningful to you.  Just an observation that maybe there's more purpose there.  Or at least something tangible.  

I do feel like yours would be defined as complicated grieving, and I think you're taking the right steps in determining that, and, in time, healing from it.  It's a devastating loss to go through and I think the process reflects that.  Take care. 

[DavidOz]

Thank you for your message TG:

Teaching being my salvation was and is a distraction, it is not a purpose for me. I don't know why that's the case, I just know it isn't. Unfortunately, currently, I do not feel I have anything to live for, I just survive.

Haven't heard back from my grief counselor yet, and normally I would have probably been relieved that's the case - I was already regretting it after I'd emailed her. But today wasn't just a bad day, it was one of the worst yet, and it is clear to me that I desperately need help. I'll be texting her next in order to at least find out if she still works at the hospital or not.

Thank you again, and all the best to you.

David. 

[The Girl]

Ah, so teaching is more of a responsibility than a passion.  I know it can be fruitless trying to find enjoyment or value through the thick of depression.  You saying you just survive sums it up pretty well.  And maybe that's exactly what it is, surviving the depression and surviving through til the depression lifts. 

When my mom was at her most depressed - she was living with chronic pain and at every shimmer of hope something major would happen to knock her down more...to the point of very limited quality of life - she would share with me her thoughts of suicide.  Sometimes bordering graphic, often with little regard that as her daughter hearing this it was breaking me.  But I was still glad she reached out.  What I would tell her, basically, was that it's always an option she'll have.  That she had been through a lot and the recovery is going to reflect that.  Even in her pain, in having to learn to walk again, in anything - insert whatever you want - there's no immediacy to ending it.  Wait for that hope and opportunities to come back around, give yourself a real shot, b/c no one can really take away the option of suicide.  But taking that option removes any chance for anything else.  Even in her condition, things improved.  She wasn't depressed towards the end.  Actually, she was excited and looking forward to having her hearing restored.  

The same can be said for depression in general, even w/o suicidal thoughts.  But I wanted to share that when you said you desperately need help.  

Sometimes it feels like we've lost more than there is to gain.  And I admit, sometimes, like in losing a parent, there's some truth to that.  As someone who has also struggled with depression on and off throughout much of my life, my experience is that eventually something comes along to make it worth it again.  

I wish you well and if you need to vent then definitely go right ahead and do what you gotta do.