A Decade of Grief

Well, that's a whiz-bang, exciting title. :)

So.... are we doing 2009-2019, or 2010-2020? Who cares, life is hard enough, let's just pick up in 2009, that leads into 2010.

This is mostly for me, to be honest. So let's just jump right in.

2009 I lost two of my still living four grandparents, one from each side. I had been adopted by one set of them, and it ended up being a pretty devastating blow.

Actually, when I first saw people posting decade posts, I thought "please. I don't know even remember what I was thinking or feeling in 2010. That was ten years ago."

And then I rememebered, "Oh wait. I lost grandpa in 2009. I know exactly where I was in 2010."

In 2010 I was struggling with severe depression, but I didn't know it. I thought I wasn't struggling with it, because I was constantly hanging out with friends, and I naively thought to myself "I know what depression is like, I've had it so many times before, and it would never let me be out like this all the time." But I was very wrong. I remember specifically driving home a cold evening in late 2010 from work and suddenly feeling like a fog had lifted from my head.
"Oh.... I'm depressed."
I had gained about fifty pounds. I actually couldn't understand why my clothes weren't fitting, I hadn't even comprehended it. I had cut my hair as short as I ever had, hated it, and then for some reason went back and cut it shorter? I was spending a lot of time with friends, but out of avoidance with things going on at home. The other big in-your-face there's-a-problem moment for me was when I walked in, sat on the couch and tried to talk to my grandmother, and I couldn't. I couldn't really form sentences. I was so socially worn out, I couldn't think straight, I couldn't even really talk, I was genuinely exhausted. I had to go lay down and fall asleep. That was pretty much all of 2010.

2011, things improved. I realized what was happening. I realized I was depressed and grieving. I realized I was stressed because all of the pressure was on me now to take care of my grandma. And I realized I was running away from things. And once all of that got through to me, I made changes. I still spent time with friends, but I made grandma a priority. I forced myself to lay in bed 30 minutes every night and stay awake, because I learned it was far more important for me to have a little bit of time to myself and quiet and awake than 30 extra minutes of sleep. That worked. I began working out with friends. I joined a calorie counting app, and it worked. I dropped 40 pounds that year. I slowly began growing my hair back out. Things were on the up and up. I felt better, I felt like after now three experiences with grief, that I was beginning to understand it better, and that helped. I was still worried and stressed about some things, but I felt like I was in a better position to deal with it.

And then in 2012 I suddenly lost my aunt.
This.... was not just an aunt. She had really become more of a second mother to me, she was the one who kept in touch me with and pulling me back into the family when I wanted to be distant. She and I were emotionally in sync and could read each other from across a room. I bawled on her shoulder, and at times she bawled on mine, and I was grateful for that. I loved having that adult almost daughter-like relationship. She still missed dad just as much as I did, and I needed that too. I loved her so much. She was precious to me.
And then she was gone. Just like that.
This was now my fifth loss, and my fourth one that made also genuinely, and entirely, change my life.
I don't want to make it sound like all five didn't effect me, I just mean this was now the fourth that completely upended my life.
But this time was slightly different. I knew grief a little better now. I don't know that anyone ever can have a full understanding of how grief works - it's different every single time, because every single time every relationship is different, how you lost them is different, you're a different person after each loss, it's always different. But I had a much better idea.
Her death hit me physically moreso than any of the others. I remember sobbing wracking sobs for her night after night. I had flashbacks, specifically of her funeral, and I had never had flashbacks before that point. I remember walking into my kitchen months after her funeral, and suddenly caving over and having to grab myself by my knees to catch myself because suddenly I thought of her and it was too much.
But I was open about it this time. I didn't try to hide it. I started going on walks around our neighborhood and openly arguing with God about it. I told Him how angry I was. I told Him how unfair it felt. I let all the anger come to the surface, and I tried really hard to grieve and not shove it down, and it worked. I mean, I still struggled with depression. This time was not pleasant. But this was the best I had ever handled a loss up to this point, as terrible as it sounds, and maybe even as ridiculous as it sounds in light of what I said about it earlier. But it was all physically there, on the surface. And afterward - way afterward, years afterward - I coped with her loss better than I still sometimes struggle with the earliest ones, the ones I shoved down so far.
That, and I had no doubt she I knew I loved her. That's important, that's what I've walked away with the most after all of the losses. The one I knew had no doubt I loved her, that's the one I've coped the best with.
What I'm saying is call your mom. Tell your loved ones. I don't care how awkward it is or feels. I promise you, you will not be sorry you did it. It matters to you, as much as it  matters to them.

In 2013, things got harder. We begin to realize my other grandpa was having issues with dementia. That statement makes it sound like we just got the diagnosis and that was it, but that... wasn't it. We were told other things were going on, we were constantly taking him back to hospitals and doctors being told it could possibly be this or that and this got complicated. And in the meantime, he was just getting worse.

In 2014 we moved him into a nursing home, and that was a hard decision to make. They did take great care of him, which was incredible, but it was still stressful on our family. There were so many other factors I'm not mentioning here. But he appeared settled.
I was about to take a new job, one that would mean I was further from home, but able to help out more with the bills. I started that late in the year and was commuting.
But that summer, I began to realize my grandma was beginning to struggle a bit. She was having a few mental issues I was worried about. I remember when she was having trouble remembering something, that we had already talked about several times, and how worried she was over it even though we had confirmed it was taken care of. I remember how she took her dinner scraps back to the bathroom to throw them down the toilet, instead of the trash in the kitchen. After one of these moments, I drove to a parking lot and sobbed in my car. I couldn't let her hear me cry in the house and know it was over her. I knew the stress was going to be too much, I knew that whenever I lost her - whenever that was going to be - it was going to be too much for me. I knew I needed to get healthy first. I called my friend in the parking lot and told her I thought I needed to see a therapist.
And then, days before Thanksgiving, she had her big stroke. We actually got really, really, incredibly lucky. She did not have any major side effects from it afterward. We got her to the hospital in time. She managed to go home and go to Thanksgiving, which she was grateful for. But it was the moment that really slammed me in the face I needed help.

In early 2015, we moved closer to family and my job. It was a huge blessing, but also just incredibly stressful. I was moving her out of the last home she had lived in with my grandfather, and basically her hometown. I was devastated to do that. Months later, she told me she was glad we had made the move and that new this house was the right size for her. I'm still incredibly grateful she told me that. I needed to hear that.
And then my grandpa died in the middle of 2015.
I had actually gotten really close to him in those last couple years. I visited him almost weekly until we moved - and even then biweekly - and I really loved his stories he told me while he had his dementia. We did a lot of things together in that nursing home - he told me we saw baseball games together, and filmed a Cheerios commercial together, and all about his day, and I loved that. We were worried about his last daughter, and how she would cope. (She is doing well now, just as an update in case anyone was concerned.)
Outside of his loss, back at home, I had gotten in the swing of taking care of grandma for the most part and she was doing well. We had family close that could help check in on her. I began to see a therapist to help me cope with the stress and past losses. Things mostly began to smooth out.

In 2016, my aunt was able to work it out where she could come live with my grandma and I, and that was huge. I was so grateful, and grandma was so happy, and I'm still so tremendously blessed that that happened. That was huge for both of our lives, and not just in relieving the stress, but also just in building deeper relationships. I continued to see my therapist. My job was going well.
And then suddenly on Christmas Eve, we lost her.

I can't wrap all of that loss up in one post. It was so much. My last living immediate family member. The grandma that had helped raise me, adopted me. The grandma that loved me unconditionally. The grandma I had seen and spent time with almost every single day of my life in one way or another, except for college. The grandma I spent every day after school with.

2017. Man, 2017. All grieving is hellish, but this was a whole new world for me. In April 2017 I began have extreme anxiety. I also sprained my ankle, that's never healed right. I also had a car wreck, that didn't cause major problems, but caused enough problems I had to figure them out. I had extreme depression. I was terrified to eat, because I was suddenly afraid I'd be allergic to it, or choke on it, and no one could help me. I was terrified to cook, even though I had spent the previous two years cooking all of our meals, because I was afraid I'd cause damage or cook it incorrectly and make myself sick. A friend asked me recently what triggered my anxiety during that time, and I said everything. And he, genuinely and not sarcastically, said "Literally, just the act of being alive for you, just existing, caused you anxiety?" And I told him yes, that was very apt. I began to live by myself for the very first time.
I was devastated. I was lost.

2018, not a lot better. I was incredibly lonely. I was incredibly depressed. I stumbled through my days. I ended my sessions with my therapist, before I was ready, but for specific and necessary reasons.

And that continued into about mid 2019. And then I'm not sure what happened entirely. I had been practicing, for months, on how to control my anxiety and tricks and tools to manage it, and it began to get easier. I began to experiment more with cooking and food, not a lot, but some. I began to spend some time with friends, and not have panic attacks about it. I realized more about how anxiety worked, so it wasn't quite as stressful. I had a few new experiences because I was feeling better, and that continued to make me feel better, because I enjoyed things a little easier and felt more accomplished. I sobbed again at Christmas, but also loved it too. And I allowed myself to feel both those things, and realize they're both a part of Christmas. And that's fine.

And I end the decade, with minutes to spare, writing this to remember. It really wasn't all bad, but this was the bulk of this decade. I do want to remember. I don't want to forget. It was hard, it was stressful, but I've developed a lot. A lot changed in this decade. I learned a lot more about grief. At the end of this year, I'm realizing how important it is to let people know you love them. At the end of this year, I don't want to be as distant from people. And that's huge for me. That's a massive shift.

At the beginning of this decade, I was distant from people because of grief. At the end of this decade, I want to be closer to people. Because of grief. I understand it differently now.

Whether you're distant, or close, it doesn't make the grief any less. It's still going to be hell, just in a different way. The only control you have over it all, is if you know in the end that person knows you loved them. It's not going to make the grief any less or any less intense. It will still be incredibly brutal and intense.
But. It will make it just the tiniest bit of comfort. Because you will be able to rest in that knowledge that they knew. And in that time of agony, any comfort is a refuge. Out of all the losses, the ones I question if they knew how I felt, those are the ones I struggle with the most, years later. Even though I grieve all of them still, honestly, the ones I question are the ones that hurt the most. 
I realize every situation is different, and letting people know you love them may not work for everyone. But I bet it would work for a lot of people.

I promised myself I'd have this done before midnight. I want this written down, so I can help myself remember what this decade was like, but I also want to continue moving forward. I have three minutes to go.

So thank you for listening, if there's anyone out there. And thank you for letting me get it down somewhere.

Now I'm going to go watch the ball drop and raise a toast (read: can of Dr. Pepper) to 2020. :)

Much love.