By Patsy Kelly
More than ever, we live in anxious times. The IRS is after us if we’re late on our payments, or the outcome of the election is sure to be disastrous, or we can’t face living alone after losing a loved one. We can’t turn on our TVs or radios without finding some cause for alarm. We rarely have a conversation over the melons in the produce section that doesn’t veer into dangerous territory about some worry.
When we lose a loved one, it’s as if we lose whatever peace and calm that ever existed. How will I be able to endure the anniversaries? How can I meet people and answer their questions as to my wellbeing? Isn’t there a way I can bypass the holidays? I can never sit in the same pew at church, hear our favorite song, watch any movie that might trigger a memory, walk into a room and possibly hear a voice or see a silhouette that resembles my loved one.
With each “I can’t” the anxiety grows and can easily spiral out of control. We don’t have the arms to wrap around us, the familiar voice that would have told us, “it’ll be alright,” or the reassurance that we can enter that room and find our loved one’s familiar grin that makes everything okay.
New anxieties that might never have troubled us now can appear to be insurmountable. If my loved one disappeared without warning, what other tragedy awaits? Or, if that unexpected crisis hit when I least expected, what is the next cataclysmic disaster just around the corner? And the fears rise as our world diminishes. What we can do is begin to dismantle those fears, or for the time being, at least downsize them.
We are tasked with finding new ways to navigate our grief while locating the source of anxiety and work to reduce its power. That’s a tall order, especially when we feel too weak some mornings to even get out of bed. We can begin to examine them, one by one. How likely, really, is it that another disaster is coming? How reasonable is it for me to fear a crisis before I even know or recognize there is one? And if there is another death, or tragedy, aren’t I proving right now that I will survive? I won’t like it; I’ll be undone for a time. But I will survive. I will do what I’m doing right now — face my fears, talk with like-minded grieving persons, and know my grief is a true way to honor my loved one.
Do I believe in a benevolent Creator or Universe who holds and comforts me or do I feel abandoned? The answer to that one might lead to some group support or therapy. There are likely to be others grieving who share similar feelings and can help me realize I am not alone, crazy or falling into an abyss. For information about Grief Group Jacksonville, send an email to griefgroupjax@gmail.com.
