3 Strategies to Survive Recent Grief

I'm an introvert. I like people but I kind of like solitude more. And by "solitude" I also include time alone with my late husband while he was alive and also now that he has passed beyond this earth. During our time together Robert was always just so accommodating that it was as comfortable being in his company as being alone. He was just so darn easy to be with.

If you are more of a people-person, then early on in your grieving process you will have discovered that being around people makes you feel much better. You don't need me to suggest that you change up your regular routine to include more hours with supportive family and friends. But what about us introverts who are used to--and feel comfortable with--"alone" time? Grief can soon become overwhelming when you are facing it alone. All alone.

Nobody understands! It's so isolating that none of your family members really "gets it". It makes them feel uncomfortable to be around you. It makes them feel uncomfortable to mention your beloved's name. It makes them feel uncomfortable to meet you on an emotional level that is real. Oh, yeah--they are comfortable saying something like, "I hope you're doing better now?" Better than what? Better than hiding under the covers in a dark room for the rest of my life? It makes them comfortable to utter platitudes such as "His pain is over now. He's in a better place." Honestly, if that's all you can offer why bother to say anything at all? A simple hug would suffice.

The strategies I am outlining herein don't necessarily take you out of your comfort zone. I used them all right here at home and in my own neighbourhood. They really worked for me in that horrible first month (January 2015) following Bob's death.

Have you ever heard of the Coriolis Effect? It has to do (in part) with water going down a drain. In the Northern Hemisphere, water drains one direction (counterclockwise); in the Southern Hemisphere, it drains the opposite direction. That first night, after my husband's death, I felt like I was spinning in the wrong direction and that if I wasn't sitting down, I was going to fall down. Or fall up, maybe. Everything was topsy-turvy and I hated every minute. So I downloaded a few books from Amazon and started reading. I read about other people's loss, about death, and about the afterlife. It was pretty interesting but it didn't help me. I was still gasping for breath because I was crying so uncontrollably.

Then I remembered that the previous week I had purchased a recently released book from one of my favourite fiction authors. I started reading it--it was a romance novel about a sweet guy who falls in love with a girl who is backpacking the world. She is from New Zealand. Unbeknownst to her, he decides to follow her back to New Zealand. I've never been to New Zealand and I found the description of its geography also very entertaining. For a few days I lost myself in the novel and was able to cope (with myself) much better. Strategy #1: lose yourself in a novel

Who doesn't love coffee? I am a fan of Starbucks and it had always been one my dreams that Bob and I would stroll over to Starbucks every morning during our retirement, and sit having our morning latte' on their patio, enjoying the view. A couple of weeks after his death, I was looking for someone to blame. Or something. I thought about how my dream retirement had been smashed because he had passed away before we could retire together. Right then, I hated Starbucks. Of course, that was just dumb because he died from the ravages of a disease that took its toll slowly over a decade and he really wasn't ever much of a coffee drinker. (The latte's were all mine. He took his coffee black and sweet.)

Now that I had too much time on my hands and no one to share it with, I decided to fulfill that part of our shared dream in honour of him. I made it a new routine to walk over to Starbucks, get a coffee, and sit on their patio just watching people. In the dead of winter I sat inside. Always steamy. Always busy. Always really, quite amusing. Starbucks, for me, wasn't really the point. It's a metaphor for "life goes on". That place is always crowded and teeming with life. It represents a culture of living and took me away, for a few moments each day, from my culture of death. Even an introvert can get along quite nicely in that milieu. Busy yet impersonal. Perfect. If you know of any similar venue, give it a try. I think that a mall food court would be also appropriate. Any busy, safe location where you can sit and sip and watch.Strategy #2: go to Starbucks

Surviving grief is the most difficult thing in my life. Yours, too? It is probably different for each one of us. Talking to someone like a psychologist or grief counsellor might be helpful for some people (not for me). Keeping busy with hobbies is supposed to be a good tactic (not for me--I just felt so foggy, mentally clouded--that I couldn't sustain the needed attention span for any of my usual hobbies). Right after Robert passed, I suddenly seemed to lose my memory. I had such a difficult time remembering just the most normal things so I had to start keeping lists and googling nearly everything. Thank God it was a stage that passed quickly. I had, and have, a pretty sharp memory the rest of the time but I already knew from when my Mom had passed, a few years ago, that memory loss can be one effect of grief. At least it's only temporary. I made shopping lists. I made sure that my phone and tablet were always charged so that I could google directions and names that normally I would simply recall. I made lists for "to do" things around the house. (Heh: so I didn't actually get those things done? Who would even know? I hate housework needless to say. Some things don't need to be remembered!) Strategy #3: make lists and force your mobile device to function as a temporary memory

If you've discovered some super strategies to survive those lonely, first days and weeks of recent grief, please feel free to share in the comments below.