Every day I am coping with a very low and sad feeling.
I’m not really bothered if I don’t see anyone and prefer to stay in.
Mixing is hard as I’m so sensitive, people don’t intend to say something painful, but it happens and I then have to cope with that feeling as well.
Most activities seem like climbing Everest and I’m too tired and low to have the energy to be bothered.
It’s now nearly five months since my husband died and the mood issue seems so much harder to bear. I don’t really know when I should be feeling somewhat less tired and low, but I wish it would come soon as it’s wearing me out.
I do have friends but would really like to tell them I can’t be bothered doing anything as it’s all too much effort.
Please advise me that I’m not getting sick and that the way I’m feeling is just grieving and will with time improve.
I was sad to read your post and of the loss of your husband. Five months is not long when you have lost someone you love and I think your description of of feeling as if you are climbing Everest is so true. Everything is such an effort and it is all too easy not to bother.
People can be very foolish and say unthinking things so it is not surprising you feel raw and sensitive. When I lost my Mum to cancer two years ago our next door neighbour told me Mum had had a good death and it was her time to go. I was literally gobsmacked that someone would be so tactless.
Feeling tired is something many people seem to experience. I still feel tired constantly two years on! I have resorted to having a little nap in the afternoon if I get home from work early which does help a bit.
I am sure your friends would understand if you said you didn’t feel up to going out at present. Being out and with what feels like crowds of people can be quite unnerving. If you tell your friends your concerns they might have some ideas for little meet ups, at each other’s houses for example. Nothing too pressurised and not a disaster if you only manage 30 minutes or so before having to go home.
Grieving is a long process. When you have loved someone so much of course you cannot carry on as if nothing has changed. Just keep taking each day as it comes. I am not going to say it gets better, it gets different. The pain lessens in some ways.
Mine is a niggle every day, knowing something is missing from my life. I take time every day to remember my Mum, think of the things we did together and the fun we had. I am grateful to have had both my parents company for so many years and that they gave me so many memories to think about.
Your comments have been really helpful. I’m beginning to feel as if I’m failing at grieving, that this very low mood should be lifting and I should be glad and want to meet and go out with people.
It lifted for a very short time this evening and I felt almost normal - nothing had changed except perhaps that I had written about it here.
I do want to feel better than this and to develop interest in life again, trouble being, I no longer know this life, it has changed. I hadn’t expected it to be this horrid though, but then, we cannot imagine what life is going to be after the death of someone important in our lives.
Thoughtlessness from others, as you say about your neighbour and as I have experienced does take your breath away. One thing that really gets under my skin, is someone asking me - ‘How are you?’ What do they expect me to say? - fine thanks!!
The How Are You is I agree so irritating. I think often people don’t know what to say when they meet someone who has been bereaved so they just come out with this rather bland all purpose comment. The one that really got me was when my Dad passed away and people asked how my ‘Dear Mother’ was. These were people who had never met her and all I wanted very selfishly was some compassion for myself.
I don’t think you are failing in any way. To be worried about how you are coping is only natural and you have taken a massive step by recognising that. The short times when the horridness lifts, even for a short time, are to be treasured as they will keep you going.
I hated going out and meeting friends when I first lost Mum. Tsunamis of tears each time and on one occasion far too much to drink and weeping in the arms of an old school friend who I hadn’t seen for years. I had to apologise to him and his wife the next day. I still find large groups of people a bit unnerving but can cope with the cinema and people there. I think because it is dark and I have nothing to worry about. I know going to the cinema on your own isn’t for everyone but worked well for me as I could have a cry in the dark if I wanted to. No one could see!
None of it matters anyway apart from you and your health. You do exactly as much as you want to and don’t worry about others. Saying ‘No I don’t want to’ is very liberating, knocks people back completely as we are so conditioned to say yes.