Brave Misfit welcomes emerging writer Angie Bernard. She lives in Evansville, Indiana, which is where we met. Angie and I connected through homeschooling, but also as writers, and more recently as women going through big life changes.
Two years ago, at the age of 49, Angie lost her Dad suddenly. He had gone for an outpatient surgery that resulted in his unexpected death. For Angie, who was with him at the hospital, she had the double trauma of witnessing her Dad's passing but also losing her Dad. Angie, an only child, and her Dad, who was single, were a true team.
Angie bravely shares what she has learned on her journey through grief.
Don't Push It Down
Literally from the moment my dad died, I felt like this grief was something I had to get past. In my mind, there was a certain path to travel that required a certain pace, and I constantly seemed to be failing at both.
I fought my grief from the very early moments, trying to push it down and control it.
On the day of his death, still at the hospital finishing all that had to be done, I was falling apart, inside and out, but kept trying to pull it together. Days later, in the moments before the funeral was to start, I pulled our pastor into a side room and confessed that I wasn’t “handling this very well”.
Although he assured me that I wasn’t supposed to be handling it well, because it’s hard, I continued to try to push it down and move on.
Looking back, I realize that this has been my mode of operation for many stress-filled events in my life. Not just grieving in my father, but also grieving many of life’s other inevitable ups and downs.
I used therapy and medication to deal with the trauma of the day that he died unexpectedly. As soon I was past the one-year mark, which everyone said would help, I stopped the therapy and medication. I told myself it was time to move forward.
I did make progress in dealing with the events of that day, but I hadn’t done much to process the loss of my dad in my life.
I pushed it down every time it cropped up. I denied it to those who loved me, kept the inner battle a secret and even tried to hide it from myself.
When feelings would creep up, I would tell myself that it wasn’t a good time to deal with them, that I would think about it later. Or I would tell myself I should have adjusted to this facet of grief (there are many), so I would quickly try to change my thoughts to something else. I decided to bury myself in busyness.
This battle began to take its toll on my mind, body and spirit. I gained weight, and was having multiple physical symptoms. I was exhausted and sad and grouchy and frustrated and overwhelmed much of every day.
I was beginning to feel hopeless.
A few short months before the two year anniversary of his death, it all fell apart. I couldn’t keep going and contain the pressure of holding it all in. I first confided in my husband, who of course was not shocked by any of it. Then my physician and I talked. Finally, I reestablished with my therapist.
The most simple, yet most difficult, and most important thing that I learned was that denying my grief was making me sick. Trying to push it down, step past it, and ignore it, was tearing me apart. The thing that I was doing to supposedly make me better was actually the root of the problem.
Many days I doubt the value of Facebook, but one post, one quote set in plain block letters, helped change my life.
“He cried. He knew Lazarus was dead before he got the news. But still, he cried. He knew Lazarus would be alive again in moments. But still, he cried. He knew this world was not his home. He knew his death here is not forever. He knew eternity and the kingdom better than anyone else could. And he wept. Because this world is full of pain and regret and loss and depression and devastation. He wept because knowing the end of the story doesn’t mean you can’t cry at the sad parts.” ~ Stevie Swift
Jesus took time to grieve. So eye opening for me.
In addition to restarting my medication and therapy, I learned to sit with my grief. One Saturday morning I was home alone. An upcoming family event was making me think about how much I hated that Dad wasn’t going to be there for it.
Instead of pushing it down and moving on to something to distract myself, I stopped. I went to my office and dragged out pictures of my dad with the family. I remembered how wonderful that was and said, out loud, “Man, this sucks. I sure miss you Dad.” I just breathed it in and felt it. After a bit, I was ready to get up and finish my day.
Some times the grief hits, and it truly is inconvenient. One day I was at work and came around a corner and saw a man who, from the back, looked just like my dad, ball cap and all. It caught my breath. But I really didn’t have time or energy to sit in it right there at work.
I took note of it, knowing that I needed to revisit it when I had time.
So that evening, as my husband and I were at home relaxing, I told him about the moment. How seeing that man was a split second of familiarity followed by that recurring pain of emptiness.
He sympathized with how hard that must have been and discussed similar moments that he has had. There is a truck in town very similar to what my dad drove and he said it catches his breath slightly every time he sees it. We took moments to sit with those feelings.
Recognizing these moments, and acknowledging them, has done wonders for my mental health.
I am no longer fighting with my internal self. This has been applicable across all aspects of my life. As a person with chronic “push it down and move on” syndrome, I learned that sitting with grief, or really any sort of disappointment, is not just acceptable, it is necessary.
You have to acknowledge the pain before you can move on. Pushing sorrow down creates a weight that can only be released by setting it free. That can only be done by actually allowing the pain to exist first.
Angie can be found at www.lessonsfromthejourney.com.
What have you learned about grief, disappointment or sadness? Over the coming weeks we'll be highlighting more writers here. If you have something to add, we'd love to hear about it. Sharing is how we grow, and how we can let go of the weight Angie talks about.
Be brave, misfits, and don't push it down.
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