What Grieving Is (For Me)

For over two weeks now, I've been struggling hard with severe anxiety and panic attacks. I've been trying to rationalize why, trying to push through it, force myself to feel better. Waiting impatiently to wake up and feel "normal." I feel lost, overwhelmed, hopeless, joyless.  I've started seeing a therapist, I've talked to my doctor. I'm so uncomfortable in my own skin right now I'd do anything to make this feeling stop. I don't want to go anywhere, let alone the hour long ridiculous 13 mile commute to and from Boston to work- which is where my anxiety and panic happens the worst. I've just been trying so hard to get back to normal as soon as possible.

I foolishly thought I handled my Dad's death and previous 2 year long battle with what ultimately turned out to be ALS like a "strong" person. I remember going for my physical and all but bragging to my doctor how I hadn't felt any anxiety or panic and never needed a xanax in the two years dealing with  my father's illness. I didn't show too much emotion in front of him, but I was there for him every single day to the end.  And in the very last 10 days I was there 24/7. I was a champ at his wake. Not so much at his funeral, but I still felt good enough to go right back to work. I cried a bit when I felt sad in the weeks following. I constantly replay his last moments or certain moments throughout that wretched journey. I feel regret for how I so stoically handled his illness and wonder if I I should have shown him emotion, though I don't think I could of even if I wanted to at the time. I think about things I could have done better, and how awful and scary it must have been for him,  especially not being able to speak in the last 10 or so months. I feel ashamed that I sometimes would get frustrated when he would throw yelling/crying tantrums because I couldn't understand what he wanted. I live in those thoughts. I even thought I would feel a bit of relief to know he wasn't suffering anymore. I thought that was all I had to do to grieve properly.

I was very close to my dad. We spent every Sunday for years together no matter what. We would find fun and interesting things to do, whether it was a cruise to the islands around Boston Harbor, or a trip to Rockport, a walk around Salem or a drive up to Ogunquit, Maine. We checked out all sorts of restaurants, and lots of days he would often cook me incredible meals being the expert Sicilian cook that he was. We always watched football together, whether I had him over to my house or I went to his. We would travel together. We went to Holland, Belgium and France in 2012. We had been to Italy and Sicily, Mexico, and many other places in between.

So, I've been listening to a piece called "unlocking acceptance" on the insight timer app, and as I took a short walk around the neighborhood this morning I realized something: Although I am aware that my dad's passing is an integral part of how I am feeling, and that I initially stuffed all my emotions down and they are coming out now...I didn't exactly realize that this anxiety and depression IS  the actual grieving. That what I'm going through is what I'm supposed to in order to come to the acceptance.

It's so uncomfortable, and I'm trying so hard to make it stop, but, this is a vital part of healing...just perhaps delayed. Or maybe even not delayed. Maybe it just had to happen now. I still can't make the acceptance come any faster, and I don't know how much longer I'll feel this way, but I have to feel it. I really have no choice, so I might as well stop fighting it.  And it is actually what most people feel when they grieve. I've been thinking I'd be a failure if I have to take some time off of work...but I went back to work the next work day after the funeral, and 3 or 4 days off immediately after a death does not fit everyone's grieving timeline, when grieving hits at different points in everyone's life.

I think I need to remind myself when I'm feeling hopeless that it's a natural part of greiving, and it's OK to feel so uncomfortable with feeling uncomfortable. I still want it to pass as quickly as possible, but I can't force anything. Just feel what I'm feeling. If I need to take some meds to get me over this hump, I may just have to do it. But this panic and anxiety is grief. It's unfortunate to have to experience it, but it's real grief. It may last for weeks more, it may not. I hate it, I hate every single moment of it. but it's part of loss and ultimately, acceptance, and hopefully and finally..some real peace.