What Now?
After enduring the first year after loss, I found myself in a new territory - and I was unpleasantly surprised.
From March to May, I was incredibly sad - and angry. I thought to myself, “what now?” I endured the loss of my child, survived a year of firsts and now, what? This wasn’t a chapter in my life - this is my life. Learning to live with loss, every day, every holiday, every year. That felt too immense.
For a multitude of reasons my complicated grief turned its ugly head - a forceful reminder that grief is not linear nor does it go away. Why did I think that all the self-work that I did in the 12 months prior would set me up to automatically feel “better” in year two of loss? That expectation did not help me one bit.
To the notion of “feeling better” is an interesting inquiry to ponder on after loss. It’s not like I broke a bone and got better in six weeks and returned to playing sports again. In my world, the game fundamentally changed. It’s like practicing dribbling a basketball and getting better at that - but then the court turns into sand, and you no longer can dribble a basketball. What now?
So here is what I learned -
Expectations should be loosely held in this sort of realm. I think it’s okay to have an idea or aspiration of where you want to be / feel / do…and ensure that you leave enough room for other possibilities. The fact that I thought the start of year two after loss would be easier, actually set me up for failure and for a deeper fall.
I have changed - and how I relate to my environment has changed. Since grief does not go away, but rather evolves, I then must evolve with it. The work that I did in the first year of loss (e.g., therapy, art, antidepressants, journaling, exercise, support group, self-care, etc.) - helped me survive the loss of Maisie - but it doesn’t mean that fueled me forever, nor do I have all the tools needed for year two or three or four. The work rather showed me how to adapt and move through a new environment. it’s about consistently being in relationship with oneself and the environment - knowing that both are dynamically changing and shifting all the time.
So instead of asking what now?, I found myself gently reminding myself for now. For now, I feel lost. For now, I feel sad. For now, I don’t know how to move forward. And having a statement vs. a large, ambiguous question made it possible to move through.