When you’re at a low point in your life, it feels like it’s never going to end, but it will; it always does. The hardest part is not believing the thoughts in your head that tell you it won’t. The mind is tricky. When you’re in pain, it tells you things that aren’t true. It whispers that you’ll always feel this way; that nothing will change; that you’ll never be happy again. But those are just thoughts; they come and go like passing clouds and just because a thought appears in your head doesn’t mean it’s true. You felt joy before. Maybe it’s been a while; maybe you don’t even remember what it feels like but if you felt it once it means you can feel it again. That part of you isn’t gone; it’s just buried right now, covered by everything you’ve been carrying.
Just do one small thing and then another, that’s how healing happens. That’s how you slowly climb out of despair. None of us are perfect, but we don’t need to be. We just need to keep going. Small things matter and each one is proof that you’re still here; still fighting. Healing doesn’t mean you have to fake a smile; it just means you allow yourself to feel without believing that the feeling will last forever, because no emotion lasts forever. The pain you are feeling right now, it won’t last forever either. Have you ever noticed how, when you’re in a dark place, your mind brings up every bad memory, every regret, every mistake? That’s because pain tries to convince you that it’s permanent. But think about this. If you’ve ever had a good moment in your life, even just one, that means good moments are possible. They didn’t disappear. And just as pain arrives unexpectedly, so does joy.
You’ve made it to this moment; you’ve survived everything life has thrown at you so far. You’ve endured unimaginable pain and somehow you’re still here and that means you’re stronger than you realise. Pain doesn’t mean you’re weak; struggling doesn’t mean you’re failing. They mean you’re alive, and as long as you’re alive, there’s still room for something beautiful to come into your life. Right now, it doesn’t feel that way. Right now, it feels impossible, but the day will come when you’ll look back at this moment and realise you made it through. You survived the days you thought you wouldn’t. You kept going even when everything inside you told you to stop. That is strength and no one can take that away from you.
Thank you for this.
I’ve struggled today. I lost my mum 8 weeks ago, and these last 2 weeks, now all the arrangements have been made and all paperwork completed, have been worse in many ways than the first 6. Sometimes the fear is so overwhelming, and I can’t seem to find joy in the things that I did before.
Your words give me hope that I won’t always feel like this, that there is a life where I will feel joy and will be motivated again.
So sorry for your loss @RebeccaJane.
It’s been 8 months since I lost my beloved wife. I was in the dark depths of despair at the 2 month stage but I kept myself going with all the legal and financial stuff which kept me distracted. I would like to tell you that by 8 months the crying stops but, for me, it hasn’t. I still get upset most days when I’m triggered by a song on the radio, seeing a treat in the supermarket that I used to buy for her as well as birthdays, anniversaries, Christmas etc. I have three daughters and eight grandchildren so, we celebrate something almost every month. It’s hard going and there are no shortcuts. It does get easier as time passes but you have to be patient with yourself because it’s a long, slow process. Just keep reminding yourself that the way you feel now will not last forever and the joy you once knew will return.
I thought you might like this poem by Margaret Mead.
Remember me
To the living, I am gone.
To the sorrowful, I will never return.
To the angry, I was cheated.
But to the happy, I am at peace.
And to the faithful, I have never left.
I cannot speak, but I can listen.
I cannot be seen, but I can be heard.
So, as you stand upon a shore gazing at a beautiful sea.
As you look upon a flower and admire its simplicity.
Remember me.
Remember me in your heart, your thoughts, and your memories.
Of the times we loved and the times we cried.
The times we fought and the times we laughed.
For if you always think of me, I will never have gone.
Hello Wilson 9,
I am sorry for you loss. I am pleased for you that you have a wonderful family around you. Grandchildren too.
You are my knight in shining armour, thank you so much for posting this poem. I was ready to give up and couldn’t stop crying, still am as I type. I met my beloved at 18 years old and had 50 years of marriage. I have never lived alone and find it very hard to cope. I was his carer for nearly 3 years before he died 14 months ago.
I had been doing reasonably well until last Thursday when I had a CT Scan. The memories just flooded back in. All I could see was darkness and pain.
I cannot thank you enough. Take care.
Bee23
Thank you for posting @Bee23 and sorry for your loss.
We have a few things in common apart from the grief. I met my wife when we were 22 and we were together for 50 years. Like you, I have never lived alone and I am finding it tough. I try to keep myself busy with seeing my family, going to pub quizzes, playing racket sports, lunches and walks with friends but at the end of the day I have to go back to a silent, empty house and spend the night alone. I miss her company, seeing her beautiful face, hearing her sweet voice and all the little things we used to do for each other.
I hope it’s a positive outcome from the CT scan. Do you have family and friends there to support you??
I’m here if you need to chat. I’ve done a lot of research on how to handle grief and deal with the uninvited thoughts that plague us. I’m happy to share if you need help.
Hi Wilson 9,
Thank you so much for your reply.
I have two daughters now but no grandchildren. One lives up north and the other in Cork, Ireland. My friends live a long way away, Edinburgh, France, Leeds, Norfolk, I live in Leicestershire. My brothers, older than me, are here as well but one is in hospital, possible dementia, the other has a big family with grandchildren and not that local to me. He does his best for me, bless him.
I had bowel cancer in 2013, the scan was my check up as I have a stoma so cannot have a colonoscopy. Hopefully it will be fine as the cancer was removed at the time, nearly died, then another emergency op to site the stoma. I was a very lucky girl. Unfortunately Phil took poorly 6 months later and never really got strong again. He was my carer then and pulled me through. He passed away with heart, lung and kidney failure. I had the honour to see him pass. It was hard on my own but I managed it. He would have appreciated that as it was how he wanted to go, at home with me, or with our daughters but it was too quick for that.
Any research you have would be great, if you are sure. I used to be good at research when I was at UNI in 1990s. Yes in my 40s. My oldest daughter was at UNI a year ahead of me. She ended up with a PhD.
Sorry it is so lovely to talk about some of this. I hope I haven’t upset you in any way, just when you are being kind to me.
I will stop here. Thank you. How will you get the research to me? You can send a personal email but I don’t know how.
Thank you so much. Take care. Hope to chat again.
Bee23 x
Hi @Bee23.
I’ve sent you a couple of private messages. Did you receive them?
Wilson9