Paul has just had one of the worst years of his 42 years! It began with his wife of 21 years divorcing him to marry his best friend. Then, his company decided to relocate to a new city 500 miles away, and he either lost his job or followed it away from his children and friends. The rejection letters piled up as he went from interview to interview. Finally, he had to yield to "the fates" and relocate with his company.
Paul, after the move, found himself in a new city, away from family and friends. Even his 'work friends' were lost in the disruption among the departments. He could not understand why he was so angry or why he couldn't sleep. He was gaining weight and felt alone and empty. He knew he was missing his old life. What Paul didn't realize was that he was fighting a multi-headed demon called cumulative grief and losing the battle!
Greek mythology describes the Hydra as a multi-headed serpent-like creature believed to possess the power to grow two more heads if one was cut off. Slaying the beast was one of Hercules’ acts of penance, known as the Twelve Labors, after killing his wife and children. Hercules was able to do so. The rest of us mortals must muster a similar level of courage, strength, and ingenuity to outlast the creature named cumulative grief! Paul spent the next six months fighting the beast alone, one painful day at a time.
Cumulative Grief occurs when we experience a series of losses. Sometimes, these are separate, unrelated losses, like Paul's. But, more often, they are related to one or more significant losses that accumulate subsequent smaller losses. For example, when we lose a spouse or other close family member, we also lose their presence and support. We may lose the future that we envisioned spending with them. This can be particularly painful in the loss of a child. Major losses such as these make smaller losses more difficult to manage. As the losses accumulate, we find it more difficult to process each one and give it the attention it needs to cope and adapt. The losses become a huge, chaotic mass of pain, sorrow, and confusion, rendering us incapable of dealing with any of the individual losses. Without support, our grief becomes overwhelming.
Paul was stuck in a downward spiral, with each new loss compounding the earlier ones. The sadness was unrelenting. His sleep-deprived days grew long and exhausting. Waves of anger and anxiety sloshed around in his soul as he fought off depression and the feeling that it was all his fault. Those emotions abated only in the brief respite of numbness that grew out of an occasional emotional void. Somedays, he just could not face the daily grind. And every ordinary loss or disappointment became another occasion for his grief to flare.
One Monday morning, he opened his dishwasher and saw that his favorite coffee cup, his daily companion for many years, had broken during the last wash. Guilt, anger, and hopelessness all bubbled up as tears welled up from the depths. Something this simple started shifting in his soul, setting off another griefquake. He knew that this could not and would not continue, and he did not like looking into the pit into which he was descending.
His company offered confidential mental health services to their employees. That night, after fighting through one surge of grief after another, he resolved to make THE call when he got to work in the morning. That tiny candle of hope let him drift into a fitful sleep, and he rose the next morning with his resolve intact. He 'stiff-upper-lipped' his way through the morning commute and his morning routine at his desk. After sending the last morning email, he closed his office door and sat down, reaching for the phone. He dialed the counselor’s office. A warm, friendly voice greeted him and asked, 'How may I help you?' Stifling the urge to scream, Paul stiffly admitted that he was having trouble sleeping and would like to talk to someone. The therapist heard volumes in Paul’s faltering voice.'When would you like to get together?' the therapist asked. Paul blurted out, 'As soon as possible!' The counselor said he had some time right after lunch, and Paul's anxiety began bubbling immediately as he quickly agreed and hung up. He was very glad that the door to his office was closed! The next few hours were filled with self-doubt and anxiety. He worked through lunch at his desk, knowing that he could not face anyone in the hallway or cafeteria. The deep pit loomed beneath his chair, and he was suspended by a tenuous strand of pure will.
This was the moment when Paul took a significant step towards healing, by reaching out for professional help.
When the appointment time arrived, Paul made his way to the third floor and found the therapist’s office. After a knock and invitation to enter, he took a deep breath, twisted the doorknob, opened the door, and stepped in! Those were his first steps into the new life that awaited him on the other side of his grief.
Cumulative grief is all about finding the resources to help us sort out the story that supports our grief. Medications have a limited effect on helping us cope. The chaos and confusion of the hydra-like stories that swirl around us require someone who can help us sort them out, see them for what they are, and share practical ways to cope until we learn to adapt to the changes that have become our new lives.
When grief profoundly disrupts our daily lives and relationships, when it has eroded our self-confidence and cut our lives out from under us, professional support will likely be required. If Paul had been able to access the support of family and friends, he may have been able to avoid the pit. But the company move took that support away from him. Before seeking help, he had to deal with one more loss, the loss of self-sufficiency, by admitting to himself that he could not handle this on his own. Had it not been for the pit and the looming gloom beneath him, he would not likely have made that phone call.
When we encounter a major loss, we need to muster the support around us. We need to seek out those friends who will help us process our thoughts and feelings without judgment. We need to be gentle with ourselves, being patient with our emotions and the physical effects of grief. We need to listen to our thoughts and feelings but not allow them to take us where we do not want to go. If we feel they are dragging us into the darkness of grief, we need to find someone who will help us find the anchors we will need to stay in the light.
Sometimes, even with professional help, all we can do is learn to live with the Hydra. We can befriend it. Let it teach us what you need to know. It can help us see beyond our grief and embrace a stronger, more resilient self. In time, it will become a companion or fade away into yesterday's mists. In either case, we will become survivors, well-equipped to face the rest of our lives.
Most importantly, we need to acknowledge that this will take time! Losses will continue to occur, and we will stumble from time to time. But those setbacks are part of the healing process. We will accept that some losses are just going to happen, but we do not have to be drawn onto that spiraling staircase into the darkness.
Paul found his way back to the light. The therapist helped him discover a new life and a new normal. He rebuilt his life even though there were moments when the sadness would surface through disappointment or loss. Paul walked with a newfound confidence that came to those who had faced the demon and emerged victorious. Cumulative grief, like all grief, is an opportunity to grow into our souls and discover new resources for contentment and joy. And when we face the Hydra in the future, we will be better equipped to engage and emerge from the encounter with our lives intact.
May each of us allow life to teach us what we need to know and help us find the tools to cope with bitter disappointments and loss. May we find our way into new lives better prepared to withstand misfortune so that we can embrace the new day when it finally dawns?
Outlast the Hydra. Don't let the monster win!
Blessings,
Bob
