I have often talked about what I call “The feel bad because you feel bad syndrome”. That happens when we have certain thoughts or feelings we do not recognize as normal and begin to think we should not think of feel the way we do. Then we begin to tell ourselves there must be something wrong with us or we would not have these thoughts and feelings. This convinces us there must be  something wrong. The syndrome snowballs from there and we become more and more convinced we are well on our way to the funny farm. 

Since I seem to do everything backwards or at least sideways, I have been in the “feel bad because you don’t feel bad syndrome.” Since my wife died four months ago, I have not felt as bad as I expected to feel. I have not cried as much as I thought I would. I am not as devastated as I expected to be. So I have been feeling bad because I don’t feel bad enough.

Barbara and I had a wonderfully close relationship. We worked together, traveled together, talked so much we never learned to play the radio in the car, and were help mates to each other. She was my eyes when I drove the car, and I was her strength when her arthritis took hers away. Then she died very suddenly and I seemed to go on functioning. Why did I not “fall to pieces” as the song said? I think there are several things at work here. Hopefully listing them will help someone else understand why they are reacting the way they do.

We Grieve Like We Live

As we say over and over again, everyone grieves in their own unique way. I am comfortable with the pain of other folks but tend to hide my own. Offering counsel to others requires me to control my feelings. Walking with so many families through the death and the funeral while serving as a clergy person made it necessary to push my tears down and be strong for others. It is quite natural then for me to have a hard time letting them flow now. I am on the verge of tears most of the time but they seem to stop at the back of my eyes. When something causes me to let go and they flow I am so glad they are there that I forget what made them come and they dry up.

Sometimes Grief is Delayed

The suddenness of her death left me stunned. I really could not come to the reality that she was gone. I would tell myself that she was. I would go to the cemetery and try to feel her presence, but nothing came. I was too involved in getting things organized and worrying about the family to allow myself the time to let it all soak in. 

Grief does not always come soon after the death. The grief following a long term illness is often delayed. I did not feel anything when my father died and worried that somehow I did not love him as I should. I had given care for so long and was so exhausted I did not have any emotions to grieve with. This numbness lasted eight months and then one night I woke up reliving his death and began the grief journey. I have talked with many others who have had the same experience after a long term illness, but having the delayed grief after a sudden death took me by surprise. 

Then it hit. About a week ago I began to feel her presence and allow the pain to flow. It hurts more now than then. I cry much more often. I sit and brood which is not like me at all, but after four months of numbness I actually welcome the pain. That does not make it easier to deal with, but feeling her presence again and letting the tears get past the back side of my eyes is a wonderfully painful relief. Does that make sense?

I finally took some of my own advice. I have written and spoken that we should just relax and feel what we feel. We can’t change how we feel. Trying to manufacture feelings is an exercise in futility. Just feel what you feel. So I did, and the tears no longer stop at the back of my eyes.