Catch-22
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Mar 16, 2001
- Messages
- 4,518
The loss of someone close changes our perspective on life itself. For many of us, it will be a resounding shock to our system; an end to anaesthetized idealism. Tragedy strikes, and things change – often forever. Yet death is an inevitable counterpart to life, and it is important to realize that everyone will, at some stage, have to confront it.
Often, despite feelings of rage, anger, depression and guilt, the best we can do is to be there to support and protect our friends and family – to help each other pull together and pull through. The grieving process (such a clinical name, such an emotional journey) is different for every person; the methods by which we try to cope with what’s happened are as individual and important as our short-term response. Hopefully the words below will help, if only a tiny bit, to ease that process.
The immediate reaction to loss is almost indescribable to people who have not experienced it. I was gripped by a terrible emptiness, a hollowness that echoed around my soul, and a pain that could not, would not be relieved. It’s completely natural to experience rage, guilt and numbness in quick succession; one minute you may be torn up by immense anger at what’s happened, the next you may be empty and hollow inside.
Enduring the death of someone close to you forces your soul through the full gamut of human emotion. It’s important to try and remember that all this is natural, and is part of the unique process by which we say goodbye to those that have passed away. This period immediately following tragedy can be very disorientating and alienating; you may question the meaning of being alive, the reason we have to undergo such pain, the reason you’re here breathing and your loved one is not. Again, this is (inasmuch as it can be) normal behavior.
I remember waking up two or three days after my mother died; for one single moment, I forgot. I was happy, until it struck me and a wave of seething depression shook through me. In times like these, the presence of a shoulder to cry on was just so important for me. Talking can be a lifeline that keeps you from slipping over the edge. Don’t be afraid to talk to friends or family; don’t be afraid you’ll bore them or bring them down. Try to keep close to everyone close to you - they are your safety net, as you are theirs. Try to be there for them – if there is one thing that can reunite families it is loss.
Most likely, the short-term impact will be simply too intense to comprehend. I found myself thrown through a whirlwind of conflicting emotions; looking back at the period, I have very few concrete memories. Often that indescribable numbness will prevail; it’s like your soul has gone into shock. But it’s important to try and remember – however hard it may be – that it will get easier. Day by day, step-by-step, it will get easier.
Yes, sometimes it will feel like there’s no fucking point to living at all, sometimes the smallest thing will set you off into a spiraling depression; but it will get easier. Slowly, the painful memories will be overshadowed by the good ones; you will always remember the hurt and pain and sense of loss, but slowly the wonderful times will creep back into your mind, and eventually you will be able to look back and smile, even laugh at the memories that remain so precious to you. It will get easier.
People will try to help you; they will often try to console you without having any real idea of what you’re going through. Sometimes the only comfort you can draw will be words from people who have been there, who’ve felt the pain and can empathize with you. Often, the words of people who’ve been fortunate enough not to suffer such a loss can seem hollow or empty, even insignificant. This is not the case; try to remember that they are only doing their best to help.
Methods of dealing with bereavement vary immensely from person to person. There is no correct way to grieve, only a variety of different responses. Finding what works for you can be a difficult process, but it’s important never to feel like you’re a bad person for not grieving enough, or that you shouldn’t be smiling or enjoying yourself after someone so close has lost their life. These responses are completely natural, but can only serve to make the grieving process more difficult; try to remind yourself of what the person you care so much about would want you to be doing. This was really helpful for me personally in dealing with loss.
We on Bluelight are a community mostly united by our preference for recreational drugs. Again, responses to loss are very personal – but I would really discourage anyone from turning to drugs (and that includes alcohol) to block out the pain; you’re only delaying the inevitable, and the comedown will be that much worse. I know the temptation could be there, but escapism carries a whole new set of problems which you probably don’t need at this difficult stage in life. Becoming reliant on something to comfort or anaesthetize you is a dangerous, no-win situation.
Personally, I gave up drugs in the aftermath of what happened to me; I wanted to feel the pain, feel the anguish, I wanted to plumb the depths of rage and depression so that I could try to regain my perspective, to regain my love of life. Being sober was really, really helpful for me – and although I wouldn’t presume to stop anyone doing what is right for them, I would offer my experiences as a possibility to be considered.
The absolutism of loss is what’s probably difficult to cope with. It’s just so definite; so irreversible. The person who meant so much to you, be they friend, lover, colleague, mother, father, child – that person is gone forever. It’s often difficult for us to truly understand the meaning of this at first, and as it sinks in it can be the source of most pain. Coming to terms with death is a long and difficult process, but it is entirely natural and can shape you as a person. It may seem impossible, but time can and does heal things.
Trust me, it will get easier.
Often, despite feelings of rage, anger, depression and guilt, the best we can do is to be there to support and protect our friends and family – to help each other pull together and pull through. The grieving process (such a clinical name, such an emotional journey) is different for every person; the methods by which we try to cope with what’s happened are as individual and important as our short-term response. Hopefully the words below will help, if only a tiny bit, to ease that process.
The immediate reaction to loss is almost indescribable to people who have not experienced it. I was gripped by a terrible emptiness, a hollowness that echoed around my soul, and a pain that could not, would not be relieved. It’s completely natural to experience rage, guilt and numbness in quick succession; one minute you may be torn up by immense anger at what’s happened, the next you may be empty and hollow inside.
Enduring the death of someone close to you forces your soul through the full gamut of human emotion. It’s important to try and remember that all this is natural, and is part of the unique process by which we say goodbye to those that have passed away. This period immediately following tragedy can be very disorientating and alienating; you may question the meaning of being alive, the reason we have to undergo such pain, the reason you’re here breathing and your loved one is not. Again, this is (inasmuch as it can be) normal behavior.
I remember waking up two or three days after my mother died; for one single moment, I forgot. I was happy, until it struck me and a wave of seething depression shook through me. In times like these, the presence of a shoulder to cry on was just so important for me. Talking can be a lifeline that keeps you from slipping over the edge. Don’t be afraid to talk to friends or family; don’t be afraid you’ll bore them or bring them down. Try to keep close to everyone close to you - they are your safety net, as you are theirs. Try to be there for them – if there is one thing that can reunite families it is loss.
Most likely, the short-term impact will be simply too intense to comprehend. I found myself thrown through a whirlwind of conflicting emotions; looking back at the period, I have very few concrete memories. Often that indescribable numbness will prevail; it’s like your soul has gone into shock. But it’s important to try and remember – however hard it may be – that it will get easier. Day by day, step-by-step, it will get easier.
Yes, sometimes it will feel like there’s no fucking point to living at all, sometimes the smallest thing will set you off into a spiraling depression; but it will get easier. Slowly, the painful memories will be overshadowed by the good ones; you will always remember the hurt and pain and sense of loss, but slowly the wonderful times will creep back into your mind, and eventually you will be able to look back and smile, even laugh at the memories that remain so precious to you. It will get easier.
People will try to help you; they will often try to console you without having any real idea of what you’re going through. Sometimes the only comfort you can draw will be words from people who have been there, who’ve felt the pain and can empathize with you. Often, the words of people who’ve been fortunate enough not to suffer such a loss can seem hollow or empty, even insignificant. This is not the case; try to remember that they are only doing their best to help.
Methods of dealing with bereavement vary immensely from person to person. There is no correct way to grieve, only a variety of different responses. Finding what works for you can be a difficult process, but it’s important never to feel like you’re a bad person for not grieving enough, or that you shouldn’t be smiling or enjoying yourself after someone so close has lost their life. These responses are completely natural, but can only serve to make the grieving process more difficult; try to remind yourself of what the person you care so much about would want you to be doing. This was really helpful for me personally in dealing with loss.
We on Bluelight are a community mostly united by our preference for recreational drugs. Again, responses to loss are very personal – but I would really discourage anyone from turning to drugs (and that includes alcohol) to block out the pain; you’re only delaying the inevitable, and the comedown will be that much worse. I know the temptation could be there, but escapism carries a whole new set of problems which you probably don’t need at this difficult stage in life. Becoming reliant on something to comfort or anaesthetize you is a dangerous, no-win situation.
Personally, I gave up drugs in the aftermath of what happened to me; I wanted to feel the pain, feel the anguish, I wanted to plumb the depths of rage and depression so that I could try to regain my perspective, to regain my love of life. Being sober was really, really helpful for me – and although I wouldn’t presume to stop anyone doing what is right for them, I would offer my experiences as a possibility to be considered.
The absolutism of loss is what’s probably difficult to cope with. It’s just so definite; so irreversible. The person who meant so much to you, be they friend, lover, colleague, mother, father, child – that person is gone forever. It’s often difficult for us to truly understand the meaning of this at first, and as it sinks in it can be the source of most pain. Coming to terms with death is a long and difficult process, but it is entirely natural and can shape you as a person. It may seem impossible, but time can and does heal things.
Trust me, it will get easier.
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