Grief Sucks

If you've been to the Justice for Sue site recently, you may have noted that Patrick Weiland created a book in memory of his sister, Sue, who was murdered last August. Those of you new to this blog can read about my relationship with the Weiland family here.

Patrick sent me a copy of the book. Such a gift and so beautifully done.  As Patrick describes it, this book was a way to help him grieve the loss of his sister. It's a celebration of her life as well as a candid look at the impact of her tragic loss as Patrick and his family figure out how to live in the wake of this tragedy.  It's a compilation of the words of many people, including a couple essays from Patrick.  With his permission I'll share them with you here. This isn't easy to read, but then again, that's the point.

Grief Sucks by Patrick Weiland

Grief is like smoking cigarettes. It's bad for your health and it makes you look ten years older.

Grief is messy. It hurts like hell. It brings on unwelcome emotions that people work hard to avoid like rage, anxiety and depression.  Then it suck all the fun emotions out of you like joy, happiness, your love of food and simply hunger, and the desire for something I vaguely remember called sex.  Oh, and the prescription drugs that offer relief for all those things, the doctors say they

really don't work as well when grief is the fuel.

Yes, grief sucks.

I've spent four months grieving the worst kind of grief, and I can't honestly discern any positive benefits of grieving. In fact, I can't recommend any kind of grieving.

There are hundreds of books about grief.  Google "grieving" and you'll get 7,110,100 listings on the internet, most of it explaining grief or telling you how to do it adn not a thing on how to avoid it. It must all be for people who've never really grieved because, trust me, you don't need a manual. Grief just happens.

Most of the books and groups and therapists say pretty much the same thing as far as I can tell; grief just has to run its course, delayed grief is deferred grief--you can't escape it, everyone grieves in their own way. Pretty basic stuff. We all know grief looms before us on our timeline somewhere between loss of virginity and death, and it is just as scary which probably explains why grief is big business.

I know it's all well meaning and coming from the right place.  And the cards are very nice. But from where I'm standing now the grief industry is all about making everyone else feel good, like health insurance or FEMA. It all looks good on paper, but when the shit hits the fan you're like the poor souls stuck in the Ninth Ward when Katrina swept through New Orleans, underwater, dazed, adrift and hard to reach.

I'll admit grief has inspired so much art, song writing, poetry, etc. But again, it's for the virgins.  When you're in the thick of grief, that stuff is unbearably depressing. Really, grief is one part of the human experience I think we could lose, and we'd all be happier and probably live longer without it.

If you've been there, you know what I mean.  Grief is so disorienting it distorts fundamental constants that we trust, like the laws of physics or the length of an hour. Time stretches like rubber then snaps back and stings you--hard. Days are shorter but not in proportion to the nights, which are longer by a factor of four. And the force of gravity is doubled for those in Grief. Clearly you shouldn't operate heavy equipment.

Yet, it comes without warning from the Surgeon General and you can't buy insurance to protect yourself.

And it's not going to get an easier. Our government has spent billions researching the health risks of cigarettes and dozens of government agencies and many more foundations analyze and regulate and educate us on the dangers of smoking. But not one dime is spent on researching a way to avoid grieving. We'll spend billions to get soem nice up-close pictures of Mars, but nothing for an affliction that every person will suffer and one which we desperately wish we could avoid.

Add it up. The loss in productivity. Lost wages. Increased medical costs. Shorter lifespans. A drop in birthrates. And so much suffering and sadness.

I'm telling you, grief really sucks.

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Comments

[Dick Rowan]

Thanks Patrick and Laura.

To me, grief is a dull pain deep inside that flares up every time I laugh, or smile, or try to have fun. It is a vicious and toxic beast that lives in me. It is wicked. I have no hope that it will leave, and dismiss any expert who tells me it will. There are no stages for getting past it. There are no words from my therapist or loved ones that truly comfort. I have found it does help some to be with others who are openly grieving and talking, but there is no permanence or consistency to those associations. My only consolation is to accept that grief, and guilt—for me its evil twin—are terrible realities of being human. And you are right, that really sucks.

[Dick Rowan]

Wow. Re-reading that, I feel I should lighten up. But no.

My neighborhood and region is in free-fall. Was it the Butch Cassidy movie where our heroes seemed suspended for hours above certain pain or death? It's like that here. The Virginia Tech shooter grew up near here. His parents run a local business. Three other young people from my county are gone. The professor friend of my daughter's high school teacher was wounded in the shootings. My kids’ baby sitter was in her classroom on Monday morning, in a different building.

NBC News says they "debated for hours" about releasing the shooter's promotional package. I would hope that survivor grief was a factor in their decision, along with the obvious advertising revenue bonanza. As I write this, the public radio station in my office is re-playing the guy's audio. I know I will be subjected to it, the videos, and the photographs many times in the coming months and years. Does it help us to grieve, does it hurt us more, or is it irrelevant? I do not know, but I resent it.

[Candace]

Grief does suck. But it makes us human. With it we feel the corners of the spectrum of possible feelings. BECAUSE I have felt such overpowering feelings of loss, dispair and sadness, I really believe I am able to enjoy the small and good things in life even more. I think if you lopped off the possibility of these deep, strong powerful feelings, you would lose a part of your humanity, a large part of yourself.

What bothers me MOST about grief is the pervasive attitude that we must end it, and end it quickly, or pretend it is not there to make it easier on others. It serves a purpose. Just like physical pain.

There is MUCH about life that is hard or painful. Do not misunderstand me. I did not enjoy the grief, but to try to eliminate it would be like trying to eliminate physical pain. I think it would be dangerous, and even frightening.

I am reminded of when I was referred to a pain clinic for some chronic pain that was unresponsive to normal treatment. I was put on very low dose anti-depressants. Not because I was depressed, although I had every reason to be, but because that chemical could "interrupt" the pain signal, just as it can interrupt the depressive feeling from the brain.

Funny, it never interrupted the pain signal.... and was another failure for my quest for relief...it only interrupted the hunger signal. I lost 20lbs, and I could not afford to lose those lbs as I was a thin person to begin with. Losing any part of my normal feeling was terrifying. As difficult as it was to live with the pain, I found that I rather would have that pain, and it was not minor, mind you...but feel alive, feel like myself, than be cut off from myself.

[Ruth Henriquez Lyon]

"But not one dime is spent on researching a way to avoid grieving." I'm not sure what to think about this. Patrick's writing is powerful, and poignant. I empathize with him. I'm 51, and still grieving my mother's permanent abandonment of me to county social services 46 years ago. Whatever grief does to your brain's neurochemistry has affected me for decades. And yet, the idea of a technique or medication to avoid that pain does not seem like a workable substitute for the suffering I have lived. Why? I'm not exactly sure, but it seems to have something to do with the feeling that such a "fix" would erase marks that have been scratched on my soul, marks that are supposed to be there, and that someday I may come to accept as beautiful.