If you're grieving I can't emphasise enough that we are all so unique that our timelines will inevitably be hugely diverse, and indeed yours may bear absolutely no relation to mine. I simply offer my own in an attempt to inspire hope in any of you who are more newly bereaved that your story too, will change over time.
On Friday 17th July 2020, seven months almost to the day after we lost Anton I started a journal. That is how I know what changed and when. During the preceding months I hadn't perceived anything by way of change. I was either at the bottom of my black hole or drowning in a tsunami of raw terror. I felt unable to think, let alone write; I just stumbled and staggered through the days.
It was fury that propelled me to start writing. Here is an extract from my journal that day:
I am so fucking angry with you Anton!!! How dare you throw away the life I gave you? How dare you toss it aside as though it were nothing at all? How dare you? After all the years and years of love and care I invested in you? After all the times I laid awake and worried about you? How could you do this????
Thankfully, I can also see that much has changed in the two years since I wrote this. I am far calmer, much less distraught, more emotionally solid. I no longer dread the days. I am even able to find moments of joy.
There was no time at which I could have said that things were better, but there were signs of small improvements along the way and I began to try to record these, to give myself hope. When we think about how we are, its tempting to say that nothing is any different, because the blackness of grief can still feel all-consuming, but there are sometimes little clues that tell us an adjustment has occurred, no matter how miniscule that change may be. I would definitely recommend it as an exercise.
6 months - 1 year after loss: Temporary Respites from Drowning I can be absorbed temporarily by a book, a poem or a TV show/film.
I send a message to close friends telling them "I whisper this very quietly, because its as fragile as a gossamer thread; but I had a few moments peace today".
I am able to think about ways forward without Anton in my life, though its more a case of grasping an overhanging branch as I'm being dragged downstream and under the water.
I can think a little about the year ahead.
I can think in terms of weeks or months rather than minutes, hours and days.
I start volunteering during lockdown; shopping, prescriptions, taking people to appointments. I feel useful again.
I can remember some happy memories occasionally.
I'm less anxious; I'm no longer having panic attacks.
I’m angry less often.
The yearning for Anton has been replaced with periods of some sort of numb acceptance, though I know I'm still in shock.
1 - 1.5 years after loss: Sad but Surviving I can be in a car as a passenger or driving without listening to Radio 4 to distract me from my thoughts and prevent me from crying.
I no longer believe I will lose my mind from grief.
I have more of an appetite, at least sometimes.
I can allow myself to just be, without having something specific to do, for short periods.
I am thinking about work and planning to start again soon.
I can tolerate not seeing or hearing from my youngest son Stef for a few days at a time without panicking that something terrible has happened to him.
I no longer cry every single day.
I am able to plan a trip away with Alek to escape Christmas.
I have become more comfortable with being in Restoration Orientation (See Dual Process Model link at bottom of page) when I'm less connected to the pain of loss.
I have stopped visiting the churchyard and lying on the earth with my body curled around Anton's grave, weeping for hours.
1.5 - 2 years after loss: Semblances of a New Normal
I start work again as a psychotherapist, in a small way, and I cope.
I’m not worrying about Stef so much, I’m more confident that he’ll pull through.
I have longer periods of Restoration Orientation between bouts of Loss Orientation (See Dual Process Model link at bottom of page).
I’m not angry with Anton very often any more.
I feel more stable emotionally, and depressed less often. I am less anxious generally.
I’ve thought about the night Anton killed himself, his possible state of mind; I’ve faced the narrative my mind has written. It was so hard, but I did it, and it no longer exerts so much power over me.
I remember Anton's life more fully (not only his death). I am able to access some happy memories.
I can think about never seeing Anton again and it hurts like hell, but I can do it (sometimes).
I can think about him with huge sadness but with less anger and fear.
I have moments when I enjoy cooking for friends and family.
I recover more quickly from bouts of raw grief.
2 - 2.5 years after loss: Step Back and Re-assess I stop working again, because its too exhausting. I do it to look after myself.
I start volunteering, teaching English to refugees instead.
I can tell people about Anton without breaking down in tears.
I have my first belly laugh, with my grandson, aged 2 and a half.
I can walk the dog on my own without crying.
I have a thought one day "I am living; not just surviving".
I am able to laugh off an everyday stress instead of getting upset about it.
My sleep has mainly returned to the way it was before we lost Anton.
2.5 - 3 years: Learning to Live Without Anton
I invite all his close friends for a series of lunches, and we talk about him so much, it hurts and yet its wonderful to hear his name again. It almost feels as though he is here with us.
I am able to sort through Anton's boxes of belongings with Stef and Alek. One of the hardest things I have ever done; it brought the return of raw grief - but I recover fairly well, I feel calmer the next day.
I start looking forward to things a little.
I go out one evening for dinner, and I actually enjoy it.
I have a lovely morning teaching English to refugees, with a lot of laughter, and I feel lighter than I have in a very long time (then I burst into tears).
I'm eating normally now.
Anton is no longer my only thought when I wake up; though he's never far away.
Things that are still too hard for me, 2 years, 9 months after loss:
I can't think about Anton for any length of time; my mind just won't stay with him, it still demands to avoid the thought that I'll never see him again.
I can't remember him fully – my mind won’t let me go there yet.
The dark hole in my heart and the hard knot of fear in my stomach is still there, though less so.
I still can't look at the cookery books he bought me for Christmas just a few days before he took his life.
I can't listen to music that I loved, or shared with Anton. I can't sing or dance. These joyful experiences no longer fit me.
My therapist once asked me to describe myself before I lost Anton; these were the words I used, in this order: joyful; hopeful; enthusiastic; excited; optimistic; curious, interested; passionate; energetic, busy; loving, caring, compassionate; forward-looking. If I look at this list now, I can see that I have mostly regained the last seven qualities I described but not the first six I listed. I don't know if they will ever return, but I live in hope.
Ligia Kašanin
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