My Grief Journey: 2 Steps Forward...1 Step Back

A half a year had passed. This was a big marker in becoming a widow. But my life still seemed confusing and off balance. As I moved forward to find some sense of direction, without warning, I'd collapse in despair. Perhaps a memory was triggered from hearing a familiar song. This could cause me to instantly fall apart. Then sometimes I didn't care to move on and I just wanted to wallow in memories of my husband. I never knew if I was going to go forward or backward each day.

Since my life took a new direction, I had to reprioritize it. Every morning I read from Our Daily Bread devotional and then prayed in surrendering to God's will to feel peace in my soul. This was easier than to struggle with doing it my way. After all, my dreams were shattered six months ago. Now, all I could do was handle one day at a time. God's peace helped me along in a forward direction.

As I moved forward, I tried my best to also help my daughters. My oldest daughter enrolled in a gymnastics class that she liked to do. My youngest daughter was picked from her dance class for a competition group. Even though this required additional time and money, they deserved this happiness. I wanted them to pursue their dreams, and one day maybe I could rejoin life with new goals, too.

Since I had been a professional hairdresser, my friend Trish came over one day so I could do her hair. As I started, a Kenny G. song played on the radio. What freaked me out a week prior with a panic attack, this time I was totally at ease. I told Trish about the anxiety attack at Bonco. One story led to others from my grief adventures. "You should journal all your tales as a widow," Trish said. "You'll want to remember these experiences." The idea to write a book seemed challenging.

I felt like I was moving forward at a good pace when I thought about where I'd been compared to where I was now. But we should never become too confident. Because within a few moments or thoughts, we can be down on our knees in tears. We can be in so much despair and sadness that it sets us back. And as we take that step back, we want to stay there for security. It feels a little safer when we know what to expect then to keep going forward into the unknown.

I think if we continue to have a few good days in a week, it's ok to wallow a couple days in sadness and gloom. It's healthy to have productive days of moving forward in grief as well as having a few days of back sliding into a familiar place of sadness and depression. As long as we don't get stuck in our depression, we can continue to praise God for His help in moving us forward. Kind of like a few days of sunshine, after a couple days of rain. Any other analogies?

Panic Attack!!

I never quite understood what people meant when they said they had a panic attack. I remember thinking, "Oh, it's all made up in your head. You can control it". I imagined an anxiousness and fear, but had no idea how debilitating it could be until I became a widow and it happened to me!

It actually happened to me on more than one occasion. You can read about another time, once my book is published. I think it's a natural part of the grief process. Many of our emotions are out of our control. It's not something we make up in our heads. Our emotions take over and panic is the only way out!

During my first year of widowhood, I preferred to socialize with my closest friends and family. I didn't want to go to big parties or gatherings. And I really didn't want to meet new friends. The friends I had were my comfort. They understood me and took care of me and my daughters like we were their own.

Before my husband died, I had been part of a monthly social gathering called "Bonco" with 12 other moms. A couple of them were my close friends, but most of them were acquaintances through my children’s school and neighborhood. I had been gone for over 5 months since my husband died and decided it was time to at least finish the last 2 months of my commitment.

"I'm so glad you're back!" Rita embraced me as I entered her home. "Help yourself to coffee and refreshments." I anxiously searched for my close friends, Angela and Carol. Heading into the kitchen, I spotted Angela talking to a mutual friend. "Hey girl!" Angela hugged me. "We're talking about Halloween sneaking up." A lump formed in my throat thinking of the approaching holidays.

"Okay, everyone's here," announced Rita from her living room. "Let's find a table and get started." I found Carol so we sat together. I volunteered to be the scorekeeper so that I'd have something to do and not have to think of something to say. "Let me put some background music on." Rita walked over to the shelf above her stereo. "Where's my Kenny G, Breathless CD?"

NO! My heart beat faster. SHE CAN'T PUT THAT ON! I PLAYED THAT CD EVERY DAY ON THE WAY TO SEE NELSON IN THE HOSPITAL!! I clenched my teeth and my body stiffened. PLEASE! NO! DON'T FIND IT! I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'LL DO! I couldn't say a word. The pressure inside my chest, as my heart pounded, felt like it was about to explode.

"Here it is. I found it." Rita nonchalantly put it on. The moment it began, the instrumental sounds affected me like jabs in my chest. An adrenalin rush of anxiety made my pulse race as I started to tremble. I CAN'T THINK! I CAN'T DO THIS! I CAN'T MOVE! I froze. I looked up. Three puzzled faces stared back. HELP ME! SOMEONE! Nothing came out of my mouth. I felt trapped. Like being chased in a dream, and I couldn't scream.

"What's the matter, Cindy?" Carol put her hand over mine. I HAVE TO TELL HER, SOMEHOW! My shaking hands were now noticeable. "This song...please....take it off," I stammered while my body quivered. "I can't...hear it." Rita jumped up and rushed over to remove it. Carol stayed by my side holding my hand. Abruptly the music stopped. "I'm sorry, it reminded me of Nelson." I breathed easier as my heartbeat slowed down.

"How long has it been?" Rita's mom asked me. "Almost six months," I said. "It will get easier," she replied.

Embracing the Pain

Once I surrendered to enduring the pain of losing my husband, the process of healing began. It actually took almost a half a year to come to terms that he died. Only by calling out to God and feeling a peace slip into my soul, could I function during many days. It was too much for me to bear alone. The pain was wrenching. I just let it keep coming, day after day after day. It became a ritual to get through the day as a robot, and then cry and scream into my pillow every night.

The height of my pain went on for several weeks until I reached a climax. I reached a turning point. It felt as if I finally came to terms with my broken heart and felt comfort with the familiar hurt. Since the pain made everything real, that my husband truly died, I embraced it. Because I felt that once the pain faded, the memories would fade, and the memories were all I had now.

So as the intense suffering began to subside, the realization of wanting to keep my husband's memories alive, enabled me to embrace my grief. Each day I welcomed my journal time to grieve and reminisce. I'd sit down and journal my thoughts as I cried. This was my cleansing and my time of remembering my husband. Reality still felt overwhelming, so this was my way of living in the past and feeling comfort from feeling the pain. Does this make sense to anyone else?

No Pain...No Gain in Grief

Key To My Broken Heart

I understand how a spouse could die from a broken heart. I had to gasp for air. It felt like I was suffocating. There's nowhere to escape. Nelson was gone- five months. It felt like yesterday! The intensity of continuous pain felt like it was swallowing me up in misery. Though I felt devastated with human despair, my faith in Christ promised us hope after death. I believed Nelson had eternal life but now I needed to find hope for myself to go on without him.

There were times that my anxiety rose to levels that I had never coped with before. "How will this pain ever go away?" I grieved the hardest when I went to bed. The intensity of pain came like thrusts of a knife piercing my heart over and over. I'd fervently cry into my pillow. Never in my life had I ever experienced distress so violently. The pain had to run its course.

On the evening, of the 5 month anniversary of Nelson's death, I was visiting his family in Puerto Rico. As dusk fell, I excused myself for an evening walk. I wanted to be alone. I didn't want to force a smile or make small talk. I was hurting. What would make it stop? I wanted to feel comfort. I wanted to be near Nelson. I walked to the cemetery where Nelson was buried. The skies had turned dark but the streetlights shone on Nelson's gravesite.

It was so quiet and peaceful. I laid on my back, on top of the above ground mausoleum and gazed at the stars as tears slithered down my temples. There was nowhere else I wanted to be. "It hurts God, so much! Help me! I don't know what to do!" I let out a few soft sobs then curled up in a fetal position. After a few moments the pain subsided as if a blanket of peace embraced me.

This became a defining moment in my grief. I knew the pain would keep coming back for a period of time. Each time my tears overflowed, God's comfort continued to take away the throbbing pain. I handed my broken heart over to God to be healed. I could then live through the pain and move on through grief.

If we keep covering up the pain and not facing it, we'll never move on and find joy again. After months of running and trying to do grief my way, I finally broke and surrendered to God. My way wasn't working so well. It was time to move on and face the giant. MY BROKEN HEART!

Getting Back on the Grief Track

As though waking up with a hangover from a four-week binge, embarrassment swept through me realizing how much I had neglected my daughters. My daughter's broken arm because of my negligence, proved the only way I'd wake up and snap out of the harmful habits that had controlled me. Now, I sat silently in the emergency waiting room like a child anticipating her father's punishment. "I know, God, that you're in control of the outcome. I can't even pray. The way I behaved this past month, why would you even listen to me?" I was living on instant gratifications. As much as I regretted the consequence, this wake-up call was needed to throw me off the destructive ride I was on.

I was going on four months of being a widow. The numbness was beginning to wear off. I didn't want the pain to surface so I did it my way. I ran from it as long as I could. I ran faster and faster until my world crashed! Like being thrown from a Merry-Go-Round ride, I now sat on the ground stunned. My world was still spinning and I sat waiting for my equilibrium to return. I had to pick myself up and make a decision of what to do next.

So what were my options? I very well could have got back on my ride. Picking a drink up, or a couple, would have helped ease the pain and cover up some embarrassment. But I couldn't do this to my daughters anymore. Here they were without a father, and were basically without a mother for the past 4 months. I had to find it within me to get a grip. But I couldn't do it on my own. I needed God's help and I needed to surrender to His will. I knew that deep down life would go a lot smoother and easier if I could trust God with my whole heart. He'd help me get back on track. And it was time to grieve.

I surrender, God. I'm ready to work through grief. I trust that you'll take care of me and my family.

"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose" (Romans 8:28)

This was a promise I made to my children. They needed at least a mother to be there for them. It wasn't just about ME! I had sacrifices to make and was determined that all three of us had to survive grief.

A Widow's Wake Up Call out of Denial

In my new grief, or should I say, before working through my grief, I found myself out of control. Can anyone relate? Before we want to accept our loss, some of us bury our grief by gratifying ourselves in ways so that we don't have to feel the pain. We find something that works, perhaps eating, shopping, working, drinking, etc. You get the picture. So every time the heartache starts, and we know what's coming, we find our gratifying friend. We may reach for another chocolate, spend a few extra hours at work, buy another outfit, or take that third or fourth drink that we know we shouldn't! Before long, we're on a vicious cycle that we can't stop!!

I relate this cycle to feeling like you're on a ride of some sort, going faster and faster, and you can't stop!! Mine felt like I was on a Merry-Go-Round. I knew I should get off, but I couldn't. It was like having an addiction with no control.

Two months after my husband passed, I took a cross-country road trip with my 2 young daughters. We drove from Florida to California. Nelson and I had married in California, our daughters were born there, and we lived there for 10 years. We had many friends on the West Coast, and I had a deep desire to see them. See my blog post, "Catch Me If You Can". My plan was a week to drive there, 5 weeks visiting friends and a week to drive back before my daughters went back to school.

My Merry-Go-Round started slow and then gained momentum. Before I realized it, I was out of control. I was spending my sympathy money on gambling, gained 20 lbs., and found myself having a drink every time I started to feel that tinge of pain. I tried to rationalize it by saying once I got back home, I would stop. I wasn't sure I believed myself, but it sounded good. I had planned to leave for home on a particular day so we would make it back to Florida for the girls to start school on time. As the day got closer to leave for home, the ache started again and I started to procrastinate.

"Instead of going home tomorrow, I've decided to stay an extra day," I said to Lisa, while relaxing on the lounge chair with a cold beer. "This way, we can celebrate your birthday tonight, and then I'll have a day to recuperate before getting on the road." Lisa agreed, so we went to a Mexican restaurant and stuffed ourselves with food and Margaritas that night. Once again, I succeeded in feeling no pain.

The last day came. I sat on a bar stool and watched Lisa prepare our final dinner. Suffering from a hangover, I held my head up in my hands with my elbows firmly on the counter for support. My head, like my life, was spinning out of control. All of a sudden, the front door swung open with a bang. Lisa's three boys ran in, screaming, "Nicole broke her arm! Nicole broke her arm!" My mouth dropped open at the ghastly sight! Nicole calmly entered the foyer as she awkwardly held her disfigured arm close to her body. It was twisted around backward and out of place!

At that moment, I fell off my Merry-Go-Round and crashed to the ground. The accident happened on a Thursday night at 8:00 p.m. Nelson died on a Thursday night at 8:00 p.m. If I had left California when I had originally planned this wouldn't have happened! I felt like someone hit me over the head and awakened me from a deep sleep. It felt like an alarm clock going off. "Hello!" I envisioned God saying. "Are you still there? You have children to take care of. It's time to wake up. They need you!" God grabbed my attention. It felt like He yanked me off my merry-go-round, and I hit the ground with my head still spinning.

Nicole went through surgery and had to get pins placed in her arm. I had to step up to my responsibilities and take care of my children. I worked through my guilt knowing that God would forgive me. Nicole's arm healed perfectly. The doctor had his doubts, explaining it was the worst break an arm could have. I had to put my trust back in God, and know that He would help me through. He did! I used this situation as an opportunity to get my life back on track.

So when we each have our own wake-up call, we can turn it into an opportunity. We finished our ride and it's time to stand up on our own feet and take on our responsibilities. So what was your wake-up call? Was it rehab? Hitting the scale at 200 lbs.? Getting into debt from shopping? Losing your home from gambling? Losing a friend from adultery? Getting physically sick from working too much? We each have our own story to tell. Use it as an opportunity to get unstuck and move on through grief!

A Surprise on my First Cry...Coincidence?

Only a few tears had slipped out during my first month of widowhood. Between the shock, numbness, and God's cocoon of peace I was wrapped in, I kept my explosive emotions buried. As the numbness wore off, I felt a stirring from deep within. I began to feel so much pressure inside, similar to a car's radiator that starts seething, and you must slowly let the cap off to allow the pressure to slowly escape.

My first real cry came on May 13th, the first month anniversary. I still couldn't believe it happened. I sat on the sofa beside my husband's empty recliner. My hands steadied the warm mug on the armrest. Nelson always made our Saturday morning coffee. Now, unbearable sadness clung to me as I smelled the coffee aroma. "Where are you? It's Saturday morning." I hypnotically stared at Nelson's chair.

"Get out of my room!" Jessica, my 7 yr. old, screamed at her sister. "I'll hit you!"

I looked to the ceiling, "The kids are fighting. You're not here to help anymore!"

I ran to my bedroom and threw myself on the bed. My clenched fists pounded the pillows. Tears poured out. "This isn't fair! Nelson, why did you have to die? I love you and miss you so much!" The shock wore off and reality flooded in.

Through tearful eyes I stared at eleven years of family portraits on my bedroom walls. I thrashed on the bed tossing back and forth while sobbing relentlessly. Morning turned into afternoon with no relief. Nicole, my 6 yr. old, walked in late that afternoon and leaned over my bed. "Mommy, can I get you a Tylenol?" Her innocent young face peered into my tearful eyes. "Will that make you feel better?"

Before I could answer, there was a loud crash. Nicole whipped around. A family portrait had fallen off the bedroom wall. I sat up in disbelief. "It's one of our family pictures...the four of us!" Shock, momentarily paralyzed me. Did Nelson make this happen? What were the chances this would happen on the first cry AND the first day I spent grieving in bed? What caused the picture to fall? Was it a coincidence or did Nelson and God hear my cries of anguish? I'd never felt such deep grief.

"Dear Lord, I know Nelson can't come back. I have to let him go. I need your help!"

Whether this was a mere coincidence or a sign from above, it gave me peace and comfort that Nelson was close by. There were many more occurrences in the first few months. I felt it was God's way of helping me to let go. I'd love to hear from others if you have a similar story of coincidence or sign from above to share. It gives me goose bumps when I hear them!