Grieving

***Trigger Warning: This post is about my responses to people dying. If death is a trigger for you, please skip this post; however, if it's just an uncomfortable topic for you, read on: 

Today I learned that the caretaker of the place where a lot of recovery meetings are held completed suicide. This past Monday, I learned that a friend and co-worker, who was in recovery, overdosed on opiates and passed away. About a month ago, another co-worker passed away due to Covid. Each of these deaths affects me differently. It is important for me, and I think for us, to accept that death is a part of life, and, like every part of life, it is good to have a healthy, non-harmful response.

I don't judge people for dying, nor for their cause of death. You see, there could be some judgment around the deaths of the 3 individuals mentioned above. My co-worker who died from Covid was maybe my age or better. I remember the conversation we had in which he shared that he thought the whole pandemic thing was a hoax. At that time he was not vaccinated, and I don't know if he ever did get vaccinated. That isn't my business - I'm not pro-sticking myself with vaccines either, but I have gotten flu and virus shots when given enough incentive. My co-worker who died from an opiate overdose - this was very sad to me, as he was a young guy and I considered him my friend. One could, and a lot of people do, judge his death as him getting what he deserved for using illicit drugs in the first place. Maybe. But I knew this person was trying to stay clean and sober. I also know that he was somebody's son, somebody's sibling, and somebody's boyfriend, and somebody's friend, somebody's employee. I knew that he was a good worker and a nice guy. I did not know him when he was in the depths of his addiction. The third person, who I believe completed suicide either Thursday or yesterday, was the caretaker of a building that housed recovery meetings. I knew him, but not very well. I knew he lived with a mental health disorder, but I did not know his diagnosis. Some people judge those who live with mental health disorders as weak-minded. I was judgmental toward people with mental health disorders for a long time until I fully accepted that I am living with a mental health disorder myself, which goes to show that just because one judges someone else on their mental health does not mean the one judging is mentally healthy. Just sayin...

I went to my first funeral, that of my paternal grandfather, when I was 2 years old. I knew at a very early age that people and animals die. I think it's healthy to acknowledge this aspect of life, so that one isn't too incredibly overwhelmed when somebody they know passes. However, I began thinking about my own death around 8 years old, and that's not normal nor healthy. I remember one of my siblings telling me in the backseat of our family car, when I was lying in such a way that my nose was buried in the crack between the seats, that I could get carbon monoxide poisoning from that. I thought that sounded like a good idea. (This was back when cars were huge, and we probably had room for three more kids in the back seat). I think of death every day, probably, but not as much as I do when I'm symptomatic. I ride my bike every day, and I understand that just doing this increases the chances that I'll die today; however, I take precautions - I ride safely, wear a safety vest, and am well-lighted (not well lit, which wouldn't be good). 

So yes, death does enter my mind often, probably more than it does the average person, whoever that is. Each of the 3 aforementioned deaths reminded me how fortunate I am - that I haven't gotten Covid (yet), and that I am sober and fairly sane today. I do not believe that God or the Universe has our appointment with the grim reaper already set, although that might be a possibility. I choose not to think that way because if I did, I would begin living in a very self-destructive and dangerous way. I've noticed that as I get older, I respect my health and my life much more (when I'm sane and sober). Also, I live in a field where people are more likely to die unexpectedly (mental health and addiction). I've experienced much more death than the average person (whoever that is) has experienced. I cannot count on my fingers and toes the number of people who have died from disorders that I share. On most days, that makes me grateful to be alive; on some days, I want to give up. 

The problem with death is that everybody reacts so differently to it. When we die, we affect the lives of our survivors. The recovery center caretaker's death is affecting hundreds of people, as is the death of my co-worker living with addiction. Some will use these deaths as an excuse to give up. Others will use these deaths as a reminder about how fortunate we are to still be living. Some will feel guilty - did I do enough for this person? Did I do anything wrong? When I came back from my relapse, I learned that a friend of mine had relapsed while I was 'out there.' Fortunately, they survived. I immediately thought, "I would kill myself if they had died," because I wasn't available to them to help prevent their relapse. This is, of course, a cognitive distortion; I am not responsible for anyone's behavior but my own; I did not pull the trigger. But the guilt feeling was there. I think that's learned, but I sure couldn't prove it.

We don't know what happens when we die. We have our beliefs, which primarily serve to help us feel better about death, but our beliefs surrounding death are not provable. So I don't control what happens after I leave this earthly plane. However, I do have control over what I do while I'm here, and I'm learning to gain more control over my thoughts and actions. On a daily basis, I endeavor to do no harm, to others or myself. This means that when I pass from something that is not alcoholism or depression, those close to me will not feel as bad as if I had. In other words, addiction and mental illness affect not only the person living with them, but the people surrounding that person as well. There is something about self-destruction that really hurts those around us doing the destroying. In the midst of my disease, I did not know this. Today I do - that's one of the reasons I do what I need to do in order to stay sober and sane, even when I don't particularly feel like doing it. In fact, I've been increasing my connection with others in order to back up my mental health (which I will write about in an upcoming post).

I thought perhaps I lacked compassion or empathy, because I don't get as disturbed as some do when somebody dies. This isn't true; it's just that I was unsure of how to deal with the survivor's feelings. I've gotten some opportunities for experience in this area, and now I can be of support to a survivor. When grief hits us, we feel a multitude of feelings, and this is difficult to deal with, especially the guilt and anger. So when I listen to someone experience grief, I really listen, and I listen without judgment. Everybody experiences grief differently, according to their culture, their age, their experience with death, and their beliefs. There is no wrong way to experience grief. Grief is a natural process, and everybody will experience it. Everybody has experienced or will experience loss in this lifetime. We're not immune to it, even if we're best friends with God. Loss can really rock our foundation. So again, when I encounter someone who is grieving, I allow them to express what they are feeling and thinking - no holds barred! And my support consists of letting the survivor know they don't have to feel guilty, they're not bad or abnormal, and that a time will come where it doesn't hurt so much. I work with the survivor, not the party who has passed. As far as I know, the deceased might now be experiencing the time of their life (or death), but that doesn't matter. What does matter is that the bereaved doesn't suffer alone, and I will do what I can to accommodate that. 

In my upcoming piece on connecting with others, I'll write a little about the messiness that can occur when I deepen my connection with another soul. I recently set the intention to improve my conscious and emotional connection with others, and the shit really started hitting the fan. I realized that by insulating myself from true connection, I was trying to insulate myself from the pain and suffering that can happen from living in this physical plane; however, by doing so, I was also insulating myself from experiencing the joy that can happen from living in this physical plane. It will be a good piece of writing. At any rate, thank you for reading this, and allowing me to express some of my thoughts and feelings surrounding death and grief. I do hope for you that if you are experiencing grief you are able to share your experience with someone else. Each of us deserve some comfort and peace of mind, and sharing our lives with the right person or people can help facilitate this.

Namasté,

Ken