When Steve died several years ago, I felt so lost… He’d been diagnosed six month earlier, but for each of those days, I kept expecting (and praying) that a miracle would happen, that he’d bounce back as he’d always done when he’d encountered acute health crises earlier, and that soon we’d be back on our path, living our dreams. His death shattered me — I felt as if I’d been jolted with thousands of amps of electricity, as if all the connections in my brain had been disconnected. My body felt like it was falling apart. I was convinced that my heart really was broken, and even went in to the emergency room because it hurt so much.
Grief manifests itself in so many aspects of our lives — emotionally, socially, spiritually, physically… and in many more ways. Perhaps most initially noticeable are the physical changes that occur when we lose someone we love.
I know grief profoundly affected my sleep (and have to admit that even now, I’m still not sleeping like I wish I was!). Steve was a snorer, and I found it so hard to fall asleep without what used to be so annoying, but what I now so missed. I also missed leaning against him while I slept, the warmth he provided my (always) cold feet, the reassurance of reaching over and feeling him there. I’ve heard others say perhaps the worst part is the waking up, and seeing that empty pillow. I agree.
What I’ve learned: I now turn on the radio to “snooze” (so it will automatically shut itself off) and listen to relaxing music as I fall asleep. It eases my mind out of its endless relays and helps my body relax. I also will admit that I sleep with a doll! She has a very sweet face, goes to bed quite willingly, and lies on the pillow right next to me, so I no longer have to see that empty pillow there. Some friends who have lost their spouses tell me they switched sides of the bed, so they are not looking at “his” or “her” empty place any more.
My appetite was also affected. I lost mine… completely. Although my stomach did experience the sense of hunger, nothing sounded “good.” Perhaps this was because I also completely lost my sense of taste. It wasn’t until about eight months after Steve died that it finally returned, and I still remember feeling what a miracle it was to actually taste something again!
What I’ve learned: With my daughters away at college, I found it depressing to eat at the dinner table by myself, so I pulled up a chair, slid out the little under-the-counter cutting board, added a placemat, and ate right in the kitchen. (And I will admit that yes, I did watch TV when I’m eating… Alex Trebek made a fine dinner companion!) I also discovered that cold cereal makes a quick and tasty dinner. And takeout Chinese isn’t too bad. I still haven’t completely regained my desire to cook big meals, and that’s fine.
A really disconcerting aspect of how grief affected me physically was the loss of hair, vast quantities of it… Yikes! Was I going bald?!? When the rapid loss continued for several months, my doctor assured me that it was a normal after-effect of profound shock. And yes, (thankfully) it grew back in. I wish I could proudly proclaim that all the new hair was gorgeous, naturally blonde, and wavy, but alas, it was my regular color, with a few more grays thrown in for good measure!
What I’ve learned: Even if it was just lipstick, doing little things to take care of myself helped me feel like I was still a human being, still a person who was worthy of living. Even though I didn’t feel like it at all, putting on makeup every day did help me feel more like myself. I also learned that, as with all intense shocks, the body does need to take time to heal, to rebalance, to feel settled again. It’s important to treat ourselves with compassion during that time, to not beat ourselves up because we’re not able to keep the same pace we previously could effortlessly handle. Grief takes a lot of energy, and time, and if we allow ourselves to do the grief work, we will heal.
I think that every person who has survived the death of a spouse wonders, “Will I ever feel like normal again? And what’s normal, anyway?” The best answer I’ve heard is that although things will never be the same, we gradually do grow stronger, and better able to handle the pain, the loneliness, the multi-faceted spectrum of feelings we are experiencing. And with that growth, eventually we do feel like we are “ourselves” again.
How has grief affected you physically? I’ve heard so many stories about the strange and crazy and wonderful and absolutely normal physical aspects of grief, and would love to hear yours.
Beverly Chantalle McManus lives in Northern California with her two daughters, who have each now graduated from college. She is Vice President and Treasurer of the Board of Directors for the Open to Hope Foundation, a bereavement facilitator and core team member of the Stepping Stones on your Grief Journey Workshops, and a frequent speaker and writer on the topic of loss and grief. In addition to grief support, she is also a marketing executive for professional services firms.
