My Grief Cocoon

(written over some days...)

It's been eight weeks and four days since my beloved Mother passed away. We were close, and she was a very important part of my life. I want to share some of my extraordinary recent experiences.. to be heard, to possibly be understood, and perhaps to help others in a similar situation of grief.

I am a highly sensitive person (a “HSP”). I’m a person who doesn’t let go easily or willingly, or in a hurry. I have collected and saved more of my dear late Mother’s belongings than I intended. I also still, after my siblings’ “decluttering”, find comfort in staying at my Mother’s house. My “grief journey” was going okay. Access to my Ma’s house has been somewhat limited due to sale inspections, but that’s alright.  My loss of my best friend was tempered with a sense of freedom I … gosh, haven’t experienced for at least two decades. It took me a couple of weeks to sort and store her belongings. I still have loads of my own belongings to sort and store. Most days were good, and then grief and depression would hit me like, gah, a wrecking ball. I needed a ‘mental health day’, without warning, then the next day would be alright.

I had been experiencing fatigue for about 2 weeks, usually in the afternoons. This was different to my previous experience of more than five years (before naturopathic assistance just over eighteen months ago), where my fatigue was generally in the mornings. Never-the-less, the fatigue really concerns me – I wondered/worried if I was back where I started with my disability-between-the-cracks existence before my expensive-but-effective medication. Functioning for a maximum of six hours a day just isn’t enough to “work, rest and play”, but isn’t low enough to get you any support or recognition. It’s like existing as a … Idunno… Half-ling.

At the same time, I was occasionally experiencing limited ability to “cope”. Sometimes I could do the washing, clean the dishes, and work a bit. Sometimes, that was too much. I was doing what I could from day to day.

And then…

On Monday last week, I had a new cleaner booked to help me prepare for an AirBnB guest. Leading up to that, I had faced a bunch of Facebook trolls who had attacked me during my search, but this one ‘cleaning business’ came through. My usual, dependable, lovely human cleaning lass who I so appreciated, has had recurrent nerve damage. Anyways, nobody arrived. Nobody called. I called the contact, “away for medical reasons”. She apologised and called her cleaner. An hour later, she reported that her cleaning supervisor was “in hospital with her son”. Anyways, I was left wondering if I had been deceived, and regardless, I had to face the job alone.

So I gathered all of my strength, for an ungrateful critical guest, cleaned my house, packed my food, clothes, and dog, and retreated to my extension.

Thus began the rage and exhaustion. For two-three days. The hatred of humanity. The bitterness, the shallowness, the lack of care and commitment, all infuriated me. In my fatigue, I had no desire to cook, and so I sought out takeaway food, which left me with a stronger desire to punch people. $14 for a small serve of macaroni and cheese from the Clifford Gardens Carvery (which tasted like glue, i.e. cheese had been largely forgotten) with a few chips??? Robbery! A large kebab with 2 pieces of tomato from the Westridge Centre – I asked the gal if she would spread the ingredients and she said “we can’t because we need to roll it” !!! What bullshit!!  Don’t lie to me!!! Grrrrrr!!!!

I cried and slept and wanted to punch people and slept and cried… for two-three days.

Oh, and I came down with flu. I learned that grief can cause a lowered immune system. That Monday, I started (dry) coughing. Constantly.  All day, all night.

And feeling nauseous.

And feeling joint aches.

And feeling cramps in my hands, shoulders, eyeballs.

And having a loss of appetite and taste.

And having headaches.

And having a two-second memory.

And having no faith in my brain/decisions.

And feeling broken.

And feeling like sleeping all the time.

(thankfully, no sore throat or runny nose… still)

And feeling insomnia…

Yep, insomnia, and heavy sleeping. I remember dreaming on Monday night about Mum driving me to… “band camp”…. But suddenly I couldn’t read music, I didn’t want to join, Mum drove me further up the mountain, she disappeared, and a man-machine told me he wanted to kill me. It was quite vivid.

And then the next night… insomnia… where I used my sense of curiosity to explore myself and my world. It felt very creative and liberating. I discovered and felt what I wanted, what I didn’t want, and had all the answers I wanted on how humans work. Everything I questioned was met with extreme clarity. Everything made perfect sense. Where I am heading made perfect sense. I felt like an oracle. It’s just that I am temporarily broken, and need to heal. It was kind-of bizarre, and no, I hadn’t been smoking anything funny.

The next few days… lots of coughing, a little functioning (dishes and clothes washing), a lot of sleeping, a bit of crying, some self-frustration from decisions which have gone against me in my broken state.

Yesterday, though, I made an interesting discovery about grief. I found myself searching for daughters who had lost their mother. Apparently women’s identity is somewhat locked in their mothers… so when their Mother passes away, they lose a bit of who they are. So they are also mourning the loss of self -  added confusion and grief, but also the opportunity to reinvent themselves.

Monday 17^th August.

I am in Noosa. It was supposed to be a working holiday. My voice still sounds like gravel, my cough still sounds like tuberculosis, my energy is low. Yet, I am going to uphold the sense of curiosity which I believe is the essence for the life coaching study I am starting. And I am starting to feel my identity coming to the fore. I am feeling my “yes”s. I am feeling my “no”s. I still feel broken, but I am drinking less and clarity is forming. So far I am delighted by my accommodation, with frogs chanting in the pond behind my unit. I dig the vibe here. I shed a tear during my drive… because whenever I was unwell, my Mama would have always called the next day to say “are you feeling better today?” Now there is no call, no question. That pillar is gone. I dearly hope to find a tribe where I can find that mutual care. Maybe it’s in Noosa. Or Melbourne. Or Timbuctoo. The search is on.  

Today, Tuesday 18^th. It is two months today since my mother died. Today I am strongly feeling anger and hurt again… directed at other people who have let me down, frustration with myself, and loneliness and sadness. I am tired of feeling angry. I know I need to spend less time on it. It is Day Nine of my illness, I am wondering if it might be covid? I’m torn between a desire for productivity and a desire to hibernate. It is raining here today.

I am going through a process. Feeling like I’m a caterpillar in a cocoon. A big part of me feels broken, afraid of life without my best friend. Some part of me is reconstructing, without my conscious effort. I am becoming the “new me”… a transition I’ve long desired, but til now I haven’t had this level of calling for. Should I work hard on myself, or should I be patient while I mend, allowing life to grow around my grief when its ready?

Hopefully soon…. While I travel, in the near future I will be offering online sessions where we can establish safety for your body, and from there, we can discover and discuss what your needs are that I can help to fulfill. My current process is providing me with more life experience to help serve you. This is my journey, my work. I hope it benefits you in some way. Because we are all caterpillars, don’t you think?

With love

Kaz xox