The truth about grief: 9 years on from losing mum

I’m on my fourth coffee of the day. I’ve done very little, yet I feel I could sleep forever. Sporadic sobs since the moment of waking. Promises of self care that are pushed until later, because distractions become my addiction on days like today.

Nine years. Nine years ago, mum died.

It has not got easier. Incredibly unhelpful to those who have lost people much more recently. You are in my thoughts. Grief in the pandemic is beyond anything I could understand (and I urge anyone who wants to talk, listen or connect with others, to check out amazing support networks like TNN Charity and The Grief Gang).

I don’t mean to scare but feel it’s only fair I share how it is for me, personally. Because the smallest moments and mountainous milestones can floor me just as much as the one before. I’m wondering if lying on the actual floor would help me. Maybe.

And this one – the date of death – yeh, this one is bad. The most debilitating. With other anniversaries (birthdays, Christmases) you might be able to catch and attach some fond memories. But today is filled with memories of simply saying goodbye to your lifeless mother, her leaving the house in a body bag, and the moment you knew you would never see her again.

So, while I welcome suggestions filled with the kindest of intentions of, “Just chill!”, “Have a lovely walk”, “Have a bath,” “Think of wonderful memories of mum,” – it’s just that I can’t do any of them without persistent, all-consuming devastation – inside and out. (But don’t get me wrong, those suggestions do help to ease things.)

I experienced a sad realisation today that for a griever, it’s like full elation is impossible; as if your ability to feel happy is forever capped at about 80%. And to be honest, I also realised how bored I am. I’m bored of feeling this way; consistently switching between emptiness, rage and exhaustion. I’m bored of the voice in my head. I’m bored of feeling like I’m boring people. Sadly for you, the only thing I’m not yet bored of is writing.

And I wish I could have written something more positive today; about how wonderful my mum was/is (tenses are always hard, aren’t they)? Because she bloody is/was.

But I felt it was important to share exactly how I feel. Right now, in this moment.

I know there must be people out there who are going through similar. This is for you. Don’t feel you have to force a smile. Get through the next moment, even the next minute. You’re doing ok. x