Personal Journal

An Exercise

I got another letter in the mail from Hospice. This time, I opened it up and read through the stuff about grief. There were a couple useful things in there - I'll have to look at it again.

But they included this survey, anonymous, and asked me to complete it so they could help improve their after-death care. And when I was looking at those questions, a few of them really caused me some... introspection.

So tonight I'm going to answer those questions in my journal, as an exercise. The questions all ask for one of 3 answers - "very true" "somewhat true" and "Not true"

1: There are days when I can't believe my loved one is dead.
Very true.
Intellectually, I know it. But intellectual understanding isn't enough. This is a first for me in my life - intellectual understanding being insufficient. The touchstone through which I define reality, my intellect, is unable to define this reality...

It is that which makes me feel alien in this life. I ask myself "Why don't I get this?" or "Why does this still come up and bother me this much." The feelings themselves are confusing enough, but to recognize their origin and still not be able to control them. It makes me feel like a ship without a sail, drifting.

2: I enjoy spending time with other people.
Not true.

It's almost true, but not really. I play my game now and again, though not in 2 weeks now. When I'm around other people, I feel very vulnerable, isolated, and lonely. I don't feel so lonely when I'm actually alone. When I'm with people, it reminds me how out of place I am.

3: I don't know where God is in all this.
Not true.

God is right where he always was. This never threatened my understanding of god. It threatened my understanding of my own existence. In that sense, yes, it's true. How can you know where god is if you don't know where you are. But that's a semantic point. My faith defines god in the most nebulous terms, and Jean's death hasn't changed those.

4: I feel I have influence over what happens to me and to my loved ones.
Somewhat true.

Not enough, but my actions do make a difference in people's lives. Simple law of physics. I guess I don't understand this question, and it doesn't bother me that I don't.

5: I cannot think of my loved one without experiencing strong pain.
Somewhat true.

I can think about her with a mild melancholy. I sometimes think of her with joy of a memory we made. But much of the time, when I think about her, it makes me very very sad, because it always leads me back to knowing she is gone forever. And that sucks.

Because when I think that Jean is gone forever, I start to think that I don't want to live another 30 or 40 years without her. And dying doesn't seem too bad an alternative to having to live those 30 or 40 years without getting to hear from Jean again.

Yeah - this is one of those questions that really really bothers me emotionally. I can hardly ever think of her without pain...

6: I have adjusted to day-to-day life without my loved one.
Very true.

Or I think I have. I'm not making it to work on a regular schedule yet, and I'm not cooking my own meals as I once did. But I'm living life day to day as I would if Jean were here and healthy. Minus the shared time, of course <sigh>.

7: My beliefs have been challenged by my recent loss.
Not true.

See above about God. My beliefs means "faith" to me. My self-understanding is challenged, but that's not "my beliefs."

8: I don't know who I am since my loved one died.
Very true.

Oh - I'm not the only one who loses his freaking self-identity in all this? Jeez, I must not have noticed that question before when I read through this.

Yeah, I have NO FUCKING CLUE who I am anymore. I've built one block upon which to rebuild myself, and that is this:
I am a good man.

If it wasn't for Kim making me see myself through the actions that I DID in my past, I can accept that I'm a good man, both by an objective definition, and my own personal one (which is perhaps more stringent).

Does anybody reading this understand that? I don't know who I am anymore! Shouldn't that be the simplest thing for me to answer? Who are you? I don't know. All I can tell you is I'm a good man, and sometimes, I want to phrase that as "I used to be a good man"

9: I can accept the fact that my loved one is dead and not coming back.
Not true.

When I first read that question on Friday, I thought about it intellectually, and I said "Well, Duh!" But as I've really looked at where I am now, I recognize that beyond the intellectual, there's a lot more to "acceptance" than I have ever had to experience before.

I don't want to accept it. That's why I think about whether being dead is better than living another 30 or 40 years with this new knowledge: the meaning of 'Never'.

I feel like saying "Fuck off" for some reason right now. Like I want to be left alone rather than answer this question.

I know I don't want to accept it. And I wonder if acceptance, when it comes, will hurt. Will it be involuntary or voluntary?

10: There are days when it seems like my sadness will ease.
Somewhat true.

As I wrote on Friday - I do have some decent days now. The melancholy introspection isn't as constant as it once was, and I consider that an improvement.

11: I am not very interested in being with others.
Very true.

I answered this question before. They basically asked it twice, in two different perspectives, which I find odd. Why ask the same question twice in the survey?

12: I am able to find joy in life again.
Somewhat true.

I have enjoyed some things. Some food. Some experiences. Not a lot. Most of it having to do with music. Or exercise. Both things I didn't have time to pursue to the level I would have wanted, because of Jean's illness.

There are a lot of things that are unjoyful which used to be joyful. Certain television shows we watched together. Driving. Lots of things - most of them seemingly miniscule to the casual person without grief. I'd be hard pressed to name one right now, and I don't think it would do me any good.

13: I have grown as a result of my grief experience.
Somewhat true.

Some parts of me have grown. I have an entirely new set of spiritual perceptions alive in my mind. I'm more generous. I'm working on a plan for my life, at times, anyway.

14: I've found a way to keep my loved one close in my heart.
Not true.

Well, I frankly don't know what this means. The use of a proximate reference "close" in that question screws me up. Is Jean close in my heart? I think so. Does that mean that the closeness is only supposed to be positive? Because the closeness of Jean in my heart sometimes makes me content, and sometimes discontent. To be sure, the discontent outweighs the contentedness.

15: Right now my life feels out of control.
Somewhat true.

Okay, how does "out of control" exist in a "somewhat true" state? Poor wording of these questions! Sometimes I feel like my life is out of control. More often than I would like. But "right now" I'm enjoying some blues music and thinking about my life. So I'd call that "in control."

16: My beliefs give me comfort and strength.
Somewhat true.

SOmewhat true, but probably more untrue than true. My beliefs in the spiritual are nebulous, as I say. They just don't bring me comfort or strength in this grief process.

Is Jean in a better place? Probably, but I cannot confirm that. Maybe I should make that a mantra of mine. It might be helpful "Jean is in a better place."

The truth is I don't know if our self-conception of ourselves as an individual survives past death. If not, immortality isn't much to recommend, although it can be a bit of a comfort. Something of us is immortal.

I don't see how Jean's being in a better place changes things like the injustice of it all, the pain she endured, the terror of having to help her die, my memories of the past, or my accursed knowledge that I never have her to ask a question, ask a hug from, or make love to ever again.

Great - she's in a better place. My life sucks, and she can't help.

17: Day to day life without my loved one is very difficult.
Somewhat true.

18: I feel abandoned by God.
Not true.

19: I deeply long for my loved one's presence.
Very true.

I guess that is very true. I didn't think of it in those terms. But when I look forward in time and feel the void there, it's really my way of wishing Jean were here.

20: I draw comfort from my memories.
Not true.

Nope, not true. And just realizing the answer to that question makes me want to ... I dunno. That's fucked up though - that's one of the things that makes me angry.

When I look forward, I see the void where Jean will never be.
When I look back, I see things that should make me happy, but they only make me look forward again.

It's a viscious cycle. It's costing me a lot, I think, and I wish it could stop.

13: