Dear Diary, Am I Grieving Correctly?

I would consider my life to have been pretty anticlimactic before the loss of Wes. My childhood was pretty typical. I grew up with both of my parents and two siblings. My parents have always been extremely supportive and loving, and have provided us with everything we could need/want. My siblings and I have a tight bond; they are my absolute best friends (I was worried my sister was Satan’s spawn at one point, but we made it through that chapter). I did well in school, have a great group of friends from high school and college, have many memories of family functions/vacations, and had my sweet husband by my side for the start of my adult life. In comparison to some people, my life seems pretty damn great.

The only major loss I had to experience before Wes, was the loss of my grandfather (AKA Pops, AKA Chi-Chi, AKA my Money Man). He passed away on February 6, 2017, and his funeral was held four days later, on my 25th birthday. His death hit me HARD. My memories of our family beach trips, Christmas celebrations, and dinners at his house are some of the greatest moments of my childhood. After he passed, I struggled to understand why such tragic events had to happen. How could God just take one of my favorite people out of my life like that? I struggled to imagine what our family gatherings were going to look like without him. I struggled with the fact that he would never see me walk down the aisle at my wedding. It was a painful pill to swallow, and now looking back, I realize I did not do a fantastic job of sorting through those emotions on my own.

Now, let’s fast-forward to December 20, 2019. The news of my husband’s death took my mind on a roller coaster of thoughts and emotions that I could not have even tried to prepped for. I didn’t understand what I was feeling, how to process it, or what to do. So…insert therapy. I had never been to a therapist or counselor before, but let me tell you, it’s LIFE CHANGING. My therapist has helped me understand my emotions, get to the root of my feelings and anxieties, encouraged me to set goals for my health and mental well-being, and educated me on the 7 stages of grief (Some will say there’s 5;I'm not a licensed therapist; Pick the number that floats your boat). I had no clue what these stages were, but I quickly learned that they are fluid. Coming from someone who thrives on a checklist, I assumed once you felt one stage, you could put a neat little check mark next to it, get a cute participation award, and never experience it again. WRONG! These stages come and go as they please; some with and some without warning. One moment you can feel a stage deeply, and the next you’re consumed by another. You can even get real crazy and feel two stages at the same time (anger and depression, why you play me like that?!). So what are these 7 (or 5) stages and how have I dealt with them? Well ladies and gentlemen, buckle up and keep your arms and legs inside the moving vehicle at all times!!

Shock - On the night I found out of Wes’s death, emotions came crashing down on me so intensely; it felt like someone was sucking all of the air out of my lungs. I remember crumbling to the floor, crying out for him, and feeling like I was going to vomit at any moment. That heaviness I felt from losing my Chi-Chi hit me like a tidal wave. The weight that just landed on my chest was too heavy; I just knew it was going to crush me. The shock left me on my kitchen floor, paralyzed. It’s wild that this shock lasts past that initial blow though. I look back at the day of the funeral, and realize I experienced this same shock. It’s an intense numbness, where you feel absolutely nothing around you and feel a storm of emotions inside all at the same time. I remember seeing my husband in the casket. I remember the hour I had by myself with him before the funeral. I remember holding his hand, begging God to pull a Lazarus move and bring him back to me. I remember the people who spoke on his behalf. I remember my oldest friend, Breanne, holding my hand. I remember riding in the car to the grave site. I remember the fear I felt, knowing that once he was lowered in the earth, I’d never see his face in person again. But, I couldn’t tell you how long these things lasted. I couldn’t tell you who hugged me that day. I couldn’t tell you who came to visit me afterwards. Shock makes you feel like you’re just stuck in some weird, twisted time loop. The first time I went in public after his death, that paralyzing shock made me paranoid. The first wedding I attended after his death, that paralyzing shock made me nauseous. The first time I went to work after his death, that paralyzing shock created a fear that I'd miss something back home. I’ll tell you one thing, shock does a great job of keeping me on my toes. I never know when to expect it, but I've heard over time it quits making surprise visits.

Denial - This is a hard one to explain because there is no denying that Wesley is no longer here. I see that when I wake up without him by my side each morning. I hear that in the silence that greets me when I get home from work. I feel that when I snuggle up to a stuffed animal my mom bought me, instead of curling up in his arms each night. So, I think it's better to say that I don't deny what has happened, I deny the ugly and raw emotions that linger in my mind each day. I want to deny the inevitable change that this tragedy has brought to my life, not the fact that my best friend isn’t here. I don’t want to accept that he’s not a part of my future anymore. I don’t want admit that I feel weak and weary most days. I don’t want to divulge the aches and pains I feel on a daily basis, because maybe, if I deny all of these thoughts and feelings I won’t actually have to deal with any of it. In some weird way, maybe if I deny all of these things, I can convince myself that this isn’t real. I can persuade myself to believe that I'm stuck in some strange and scary nightmare. This stage sort of lingers day in and day out, like an annoying gnat. Some days I can swat it away and face my feelings. Other days, denial bothers me relentlessly, and no matter how many times I try to squash it, it comes back for more.

Anger - Talk about a touchy subject for me! I think this emotion’s best friend is depression, because they seem to appear at the same time. I am so conflicted when it comes to being angry about my situation because as much as I feel this emotion, I do not want it to consume me. As a Christian, I feel that my heart should be full of grace, love, compassion, and faithfulness. I’m scared that if I let anger take over I’ll have no room left for these virtues. To help with my anger, I’ve created a practice where I take the scenario I’m angered by, flip it around in my mind, mourn what I'm angry at, and find something I'm grateful for. (My therapist tells me I’m quite in-tune with my emotions to be able to do this after such tragedy #goldstar). I haven't named this practice yet, but I'm open to any and all suggestions. For example, instead of being angry that I won’t get to celebrate a second wedding anniversary with my husband, I mourn our second anniversary and then feel grateful I had a first. Instead of being angry that Wes will never be the father to my children, I grieve the loss of our potential family but am grateful that we were able to focus on giving our love to just each other, no distractions. Instead of being angry about not having answers to why this happened to Wes, I’m sad I don’t have these answers and yet I’m grateful I was not there to witness the gruesome details of this senseless act of violence. As simple as it was to type that out, it's much harder to actually try to change your emotions when anger is burning like a fire within you.

Bargaining- So you’re probably like “What the hell does bargaining have to do with grief?” Frankly, I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t understand it if I hadn’t lived through it. I’m not sure if you’ve ever been to a yard sale and bargained a price down, but that’s basically what I'm talking about here. Except, I'm not at a yard sale, I'm usually at home or at Wes's grave site. Also, I'm not bargaining with a home-owner trying to make some extra cash. I'm bargaining with God hoping he'll send my husband back like some sort of modern day, old testament miracle. I’ll visit Wes’s grave site and I’ll find myself thinking, “God, I’ll volunteer more of my time to a charity of your choice if you’d bring Wes back to me.” Or, “Please let me wake up tomorrow with him by my side and I promise I’ll never ever forget to give thanks to you during my prayers.” I remember after it happened, I even said “If God would bring him back, I’ll take his place.” I should probably start a petition to rename the bargaining stage to desperation phase, because that's how you feel during these moments. You feel so desperate you'd literally sign all the things that matter most to you away just to get one more moment with the person you love.

Depression- Y'all really want me to explain this one? I lost my husband; of course I’m depressed. It’s an utter sadness that seeps into my core. I feel his loss in every ounce of my being. When this stage sets in, there's a gaping pit of loneliness that no one can fill, so I tend to isolate myself. I usually sit in a reflective state and think about the smallest, most intimate memories of Wes and me. It's an odd stage to try to process though. No matter how much I don't want to feel this utter sadness, it's almost better than feeling nothing at all. I recognize that depression is not a healthy stage to stay stuck in, even though that’s easier said than done most days. BUT, the depression phase is necessary. I have to truly feel this sadness and tackle this emotion head on in order to move forward. Even though the pain is real in this stage, I pray that there is light on the other side.

Testing - To be honest, I saw the name of this stage and was clueless as to what it could mean. Some call it ‘testing’, others call it ‘the upward turn’, or ‘reconstruction’. This stage is dedicated to those moments when people feel as though their life may be ‘normal’ again (and I use that term lightly). The six month mark of losing Wes is approaching, and I finally feel like I can recognize the difference between the days I can breathe and the days that I feel like I’m drowning. Lately, I have put so much effort into building a new daily routine and ease myself back into full-time work.This doesn’t mean that I don’t feel sadness, anger, and shock; I just recognize that my life has to continue (Mainly because the electric company still wants money from me in order for my lights to stay on...How dare they?). I know Wes loves watching me in this stage. He'd want me to keep setting and pursuing goals, and enjoying time with friends and family. I have to continue fighting to be the badass that he always said I was.

Acceptance- I LOL at this stage. I haven’t felt this yet. I hear it’s possible I’ll never truly accept this tragedy that has completely changed the course of my life.For me, there are still so many unanswered questions, that accepting my husband's death seems impossible. I have a hard time coping with the idea of not hearing his voice anymore. I don’t want to admit that I won’t grow older with the man I love most. I pray that as time goes on, these harsh realities will get a little easier to accept. And no, this doesn’t mean the hurt will magically go away one day, or that I’ll forget all the moments we shared. Our relationship meant way too much to me for it to disappear once I acknowledge this catastrophe is real. Maybe I’ll never get to put a check mark next to this last stage of grief. You've got to love a good mystery.

Sometimes I’m stuck in one of these stages for a day, sometimes an hour, sometimes a moment. I question whether or not I’m feeling the right stage at the right time (because I’m truly an Enneagram Type 1 and I need to follow a plan perfectly). I wonder when the next stage will come flooding over me. I don’t know what to expect tomorrow, but I pray these stages will make me stronger and help shape me into an even better version of who Wesley fell in love with.

To the moon, Cody, and back…xoxo

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Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Matthew 5:3-4