“And every time I try to fly I fallWithout my wingsI feel so smallI guess I need you, babyAnd every time I see you in my dreamsI see your faceYou’re haunting meI guess I need you, baby.” Britany Spears

There are no rules, timelines or linearity to grief. It a wild, savage beast that will strike at the most unpredictable times. It is an ocean with rapid weather changes that can turn calm waters into ferocious swells in the blink of a eye. We often move back and forwards through the “stages” of grief… tossed around and around like a tornado. We may think we have accepted the loss and are getting better, only to find ourselves crying (or wanting to cry but the tears have dried up), in shock, and consumed by powerlessness which turns to rage once again. We may even want to die.

It has been ten months since I lost the closest person in my life. The person who knew me like no one else did. He was my mental health case worker. Not a lot of people would understand my loss. My grief is disenfranched… not viewed by society as a significant loss. I was never given any cards or flowers, and many may think I don’t have the right to grieve. No one died, this person wasn’t a family member or friend (though he felt like a best friend to me), nor was I in a romantic relationship with him (though I loved him dearly). But it is as good as a death. Case managers get to know their clients on such a deep level. I went from seeing this person every fortnight for years (with phone calls in between), to never seeing them again. It is in many ways worse than a romantic breakup, because at least with breakups some people manage to salvage some kind of a relationship, such as a friendship, and see this person again. I was told by the manager and the doctor that the relationship was unhealthy and I was too dependent on Jordan, so they took him away. I was told that in 6 months time I’d be thanking them. It has been 10 months and I still want to die. Last night my grief hit me hard again. I was awake all night listening to a vary confusing array of music which got progressively more morbid as the dawn approached. I impulsively posted a total of 14 songs to Facebook: “Higher Power” (Coldplay), “Sometimes” (Britany Spears), “I Love Rock ‘N’ Roll” (Frank Walker Remix Audio) (Britany Spears), “That’s Not My Name” (The Ting Tings), “Shake It Off” (Taylor Swift), “Call Me Maybe” (Carly Rae Jepsen), “I Want It That Way” (Backstreet Boys), “Can You Hear Me” (Korn), “Mariners Apartment Complex” (Lana Del Rey), “Love and hate” (Camylio), “What The Water Gave Me” (Florence + The Machine), “Breathe me” (Sia), “Suicidal Thoughts” (The Notorious B.I.G), “Empty” (Anathema). At 5am I waited to speak with Lifeline on their online crisis chat. There were nine other tortured souls who were also awake and waiting to speak with Lifeline. I waited for 15 minutes, then was told  “Agent is not available, contact later”. So much for being “Available 24/7”! I heard my neighbour get in his car and go out. I finally turned my laptop off and had another shot at sleeping. I fell asleep at around 7am (which is actually not that unusual for me these days), then staggered out of bed at 10am for a physio appointment.

Grief is the price we pay for love.  Apart from music, I find comfort in poetry, and thought I’d share one in this post.

— You Don’t Just Lose Someone Once —

You lose them over and over,

sometimes many times a day.

When the loss, momentarily forgotten,

creeps up,

and attacks you from behind.

Fresh waves of grief as the realization hits home,

they are gone.

Again.

You don’t just lose someone once,

you lose them every time you open your eyes to a new dawn,

and as you awaken,

so does your memory,

so does the jolting bolt of lightning that rips into your heart,

they are gone.

Again.

Losing someone is a journey,

not a one-off.

There is no end to the loss,

there is only a learned skill on how to stay afloat,

when it washes over.

Be kind to those who are sailing this stormy sea,

they have a journey ahead of them,

and a daily shock to the system each time they realize, they are gone,

Again.

You don’t just lose someone once,

you lose them every day,

for a lifetime.

(Author unknown)

grief