Daryl Wood's Blog

The big risk of writing about my grief experience is the self-criticism I inevitably endure because of what I think of myself and what I think other people are thinking of me. It makes no sense because the people who are supporting me deny they are judging my words and actions and behaviours. Yet, I am convinced that they turn their backs, roll their eyes and sigh deeply. I am increasingly accusing myself of playing a victim and not ‘getting over it’, not letting go of the grief. I taught this work and taught self-acceptance and resilience for so many years that the moment I slip into the darkness I am certain I have failed miserably at recovery and will never heal, only to sacrifice good relationships who I believe will tire of my sorrow. That’s the judgement I make when I fall headlong into another ‘griefburst’. And it happened today.

Listening to me on the phone with two friends (at separate times) and an appointment with my doctor and a quick exchange at the grocery store and short visit to drop things off at a friend’s, you would have thought I was on a roll. And I was. I had a clear message yesterday from spirit or Doug or within my own internal wisdom that I was moving along and seeing possibilities. It felt empowering. But as the last phone call ended I felt a bit uncomfortable so I took steps to physically shift my energy. I walked up the road to pick some red willow for a friend who forgot to take it home with her when she left her cottage. Since I’ll be staying with them for a couple of nights it was a good idea for me to bring some to her.

The first branch was easy. Then I stood on the deserted road and realized I was picking these so they could decorate their home to enjoy the Christmas season with their family and friends. It was the sudden pang of sadness that I was alone and there was no one to decorate my home for. Doug was gone. I would go away for at least a few days so why bother. No one would see if I put up any of our beautiful, special or meaningful decorations. And if I did it for myself (which a well meaning friend suggested) I would have more reminders of what I had lost. The picture of my current reality hit my heart so fast and furious I could only sob loudly as I tugged at a few more branches to get the needed number. As if losing Doug wasn’t enough, I was now victimizing myself with shame for not trying harder, being stronger, less needy.

It’s hard to understand why I would use what I know about victimization to cause myself more suffering. And then to write about it almost legitimizes the experience. I have to do what I’m compelled to do and that is to write, to tell the story from here for the many people who have not been here before. For the sake of those who have and who find themselves staring at really hard memories maybe someone will pause and feel more empathy and compassion. If you know someone grieving … and there are more of us than you can imagine … and especially if they live alone, reach out. Let them know you are thinking of them. And do it as often as you can without being intrusive. The random messages I get from family and friends are a lifeline on days like today when I make up a story (and it’s not true ) that I am alone in my suffering.

After decades of teaching, I am the student grasping at ways to get back on my feet. I do pretty well and people tell me often that they see a big difference. I do too. Most days. Not so much today.