I have just started listening to a book about grief. It was recommended to me, and is called "How Will I Ever Get Through This?" written by Dr Lucy Hone. Familiar with grief in her personal life, she is also a grief and resilience researcher. I thought that sounded interesting. I'm still on Chapter One, but I thought I would share some things that initially have struck me, and some thoughts I have about them.
Firstly, even in the summary, she acknowledges that you can feel grief for more than a bereavement. Infertility is one of the features she lists, she acknowledges that there is grief from it. That's not that common, and that simple recognition would have helped me all those years ago. I hope it helps any readers who might be going through pregnancy loss or infertility or coming to terms with childlessness right now.
Secondly, the title. She says this is the most common question people experiencing grief ask themselves. It is not a question I have asked, Not recently at least. Over 20 years ago, after pregnancy losses and failed IVF treatments and accepting permanent childlessness, I did ask it. I know that some of you, maybe all of you, have asked this at some stage of your journeys too. I don't ask it this time because of that experience around pregnancy loss, infertility and childlessness. I know I will get through it. My husband and I talked about it over the last year or so. He worried about me. I did too, but I have always felt that I will get through it. Not that I want to have to do the "getting through" part of my life now, and wish so very much neither of us ever had to face what his death. But I've never doubted that I would cope. That's a gift I guess my No Kidding life has given me - some resilience I already had, as a result of experiencing previous pain and loss.
The author also referenced a few things I look forward to reading more about. She noted that grief is probably the most common universal experience of all humans. If we live, we experience grief. It may be for lost loved ones, for an experience we didn't get to have or a life we didn't get to live, for a pet, or anything else that we have lost that invokes strong emotions. Those few words made me feel less alone. We all know it. Or we will.
Another thing she will talk about in the book is resilience. Instead of referring to PTSD, she wanted to refer to post traumatic growth. This blog is evidence of that. But I don't think they are always two opposing sides of grief. I think they can both occur around the same event and in the same person - to differing degrees of course. But surely we can admit that overcoming PTSD is a huge effort in resilience. I certainly feel as if I have been haunted by some events, and that I keep reliving them. But it is mild, and I know it will ease. And then growth can begin. The author notes that this growth, this resilience is almost always inevitable. I've talked about this too. As humans, even as creatures on this planet, we have an innate drive to survive. So what is the option? To survive, and thrive, is really the only option. That gives me hope. But I know it won't come easily.
Finally, she referenced the concept of Ordinary Magic, a phrase coined by a researcher, Ann Masten. Ordinary Magic gives us the strength to cope through every day actions, such as connections, acceptance of things we can't change, asking for help, and being kind to yourself. For me, I would add joy. Or at the very least, pleasure. Enjoying a nice meal or a freshly baked banana muffin (as I did this morning), enjoying the feeling of the sun on my back, or relishing a good storm simply because it reflects my mood, or laughing out loud at something funny. Maybe that is being kind to myself, but I see the two things as very different. Maybe I'll write about that another day.
Included in the list of things that comprise Ordinary Magic was "not letting yourself fall apart." To an extent I disagree. It is very necessary to fall apart, at times. I've felt a little cheated that I haven't been able to fall apart. First, there were people staying with me. Then I had so much to do with my husband's estate and also house maintenance matters. And I have forced myself to maintain my connections so that I have almost lacked the time to fall apart. And now, three months on, I feel like I missed the opportunity. I would say we need to give ourselves permission to fall apart, for a while, so that we can then gather the strength to pull ourselves back together and face the world.
She notes that all these things bring a "cumulative potency." I really like that idea. Every little thing helps, and the cumulative effect is greater than the sum of the individual parts. Even in these very early days, the power of a message checking in on me or a postcard from a blogger friend from across the seas is formidable. Being kind to myself, and asking for help can be harder, but they also help.
I know my grief is very different now to my No Kidding related grief. But it is also similar in many ways. I have lost a future I expected. I have no choice but to get through it. I have to allow ordinary magic to do its work, and I have to be kind to myself. I hope you are kind to yourselves too.