Here's the thing about grief - it's exhausting. Physically, emotionally, deep in the gut, into the soul exhausting. Each day that I get out of bed is a major triumph. Making coffee, showering & going to work are major accomplishments. Anything more is bonus. Most days by 3 or 4 pm, I just want to go home and zone out; watch tv, play computer games, anything to not feel anymore (unfortunately those old standbys - drinking, drugging, shopping, eating & sex - just don't work for me anymore....). Sometimes I try to make plans to go to dinner or walk with a friend, but most of the time trying to juggle schedules fries out my brain circuits. I just don't have the energy or patience to deal with even minor frustrations.
So add to the exhaustion all of the well meaning advice and I overload. During the best of times I have low tolerance for advice, especially of the "should" variety. "Should" ALWAYS feels like criticism. I'm doing it wrong and you know better. Advice is a gentler variety of "should", but to me it feels like criticism disguised as helpfulness. I usually feel like I have to explain myself, that I've already thought about your great idea for me and have decided not to do it for a reason. In good times, I've learned to just say thanks and change the subject. But these are not good times. As people give me advice, I feel my already tight chest constricting further. The tension rises. If I'm lucky they leave before I hit my limit. On several occasions, I've put my hand up and told them they need to stop immediately.
I'm struggling minute by minute to maintain my balance. It's very fragile and precarious right now. A friend described it perfectly; I'm standing on a disc on top of a ball. It's a constant dance to stay on the disc. And then someone comes along with advice. Now I have new weight added to the disc and it's very easy to TILT. And when I TILT, it's huge. It's flight or fight time, baby. Since I don't like to cause wreckage that I later have to make amends for, flight is my favorite. In person, I bolt. Fast. Or on the phone I abruptly end the conversation. And then I break down sobbing hysterically. Or sometimes I just go for immediate hysterical sobbing.
Last Monday I ended up in the ER. I thought I was having a stroke. Luckily it turns out to "just" be migraines with aura. Mostly brought about by high blood pressure. I think I overdosed on advice.
I realize that most of the people with advice love me & care about me. They hate seeing me in pain and/or it makes them uncomfortable. But there's so much conflicting advice. Exercise. Rest. Keep busy. Feel your feelings. Take antidepressants. And on and on. Right now I don't have the emotional fortitude to deflect the barrage of advice. It overwhelms me. "How can I do all of that?" "Oh fuck. I'm not doing it "right"." "What I'm doing isn't enough."
The people who are helping me the most right now are the ones that tell they're proud of me. I'm doing an amazing job. They're impressed by me. One friend told me I'm a rock star. And it's not people I'm trying to impress. I pour my guts out. I babble. I process. I'm raw. When they tell me I'm doing great, it feels true & real. It gives me the strength to continue on one more day.
My father died on Wednesday. I think it's a bloody fucking miracle I'm at all functional right now.
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