Shortly after Roman died, a parent at one of my schools started paying regular visits to my office. Her visits were initially nonchalant; her tone initially casual - though on her second visit, I was sure she was going to ask me to test her kids, so I had my "referral for testing" schpeel ready to go. I never had to use it however. Instead, what she came to see me about was grief. Namely, her own, due to the recent death of her mother. She needed to know how to cope, so she came to me.
At the time, I hardly felt like an expert. I was bogged down with my own grief, but I put that aside and listened to her talk. Listening really seemed like all she wanted from me anyway, so I gave her my time and my ears. In lieu of advice, I stuck with simply validating her feelings of grief. I related well to how she felt, which made that job easy. Though by the third or fourth time she stopped by, I started to notice a theme to her stories of how she was coping with her loss.
Beer. Her mention of it was casual, just like her visits. But it was there and it was clearly part of her grief coping repertoire. At some point she also mentioned her sister's concern over her new found drinking habit. The mother said a couple times that she had it under control even though I did not ask. She gave the impression that she wanted me to validate her drinking in the same way I validated her tears. Only I couldn't do that. So I spoke candidly as I felt was my personal and professional responsibility. My response to her back then is the same as it would be now.
People cope with loss in all sorts of ways. No matter what maladaptive means of coping people choose - in her case, alcohol; I don't think anyone ever sets out to become dependent. Like the parent I am speaking of, people start out using alcohol to treat emotional pain in the same way they would pop aspirin for a headache. It seems innocuous enough at first. The goal is never addiction. Yet it's a slippery slope to the dreaded "ism" if it's used in place of a healthy coping mechanism. Especially during times of loss like after a death, or divorce, or what have you.
And as I told that mother, drinking only prolongs the process and creates another source of pain in one's life, even though numbing coping mechanisms are pretty common. She stopped making visits to my office after that. Her kids were healthy and did well in school. She gave no reason for the school to suspect her of drinking so much that she neglected her children. I saw her around campus from time to time and chatted with her, but she never again brought up the subject of her grief, let alone her coping. Beyond what I could see and beyond what she was willing to share, I could only hope for the best and hope she landed on better choices after that.
Ultimately though, people cope, or don't cope with grief in all sorts of ways. Fortunately, I never found alcohol appealing, what with my already foggy mind and my propensity for vicious hangovers. Though that is not to say that I didn't choose my vices, I did. I just didnt choose any that made my ability to cope with the trials that come with daily life significantly harder. In addition to things like writing and counseling, I coped by doing my best to forget, moving reminders, burring myself in work, spending too much money on stupid crap, horking down lots of carbs (and gaining 30 pounds), and moving on quickly with my life.
Because of his infidelity and the state of my marriage when he died, compared with most widows, it was fairly easy for me to move on romantically. I started dating again soon after Roman died and have been in a relationship with the same guy ever since. He has been a tremendous support to me and I'm lucky to have found such a quality person during a time when I was so emotionally vulnerable. Still, I have been unsure how to bring him up here on my blog because I don't want to give the trite impression that finding a new love has been a cure for my grief. It cannot nor could it if I wanted it to. Life does go on...Though magic wands do not exist. No drink, drug, food, cute pair of shoes, or new love can stop a process like grief from running it's course. It is a force to be reconciled with on it's terms.
I am still learning how to do that.
My boyfriend has been awesome to have by my side, but life still presents struggles no matter how good our relationship is. With that, for anyone who is interested in learning more about how life has shaped, supported, and challenged me in the years since Roman died, I would like to share a link to a guest post I recently wrote on
Extreme Writing Now. The piece is part of a memoir prompt I shared called "
Out of Work, But Not Down and Out."
Friday night my boyfriend, Chris, came home with good news. The official letter was signed, sealed, and delivered; his job is finally permanent. No longer is he a probationary employee. After a period of two years of unemployment, the letter confirming his status might as well have been made of gold. Because for a while there, things were looking bleak…I was starting to wonder if he would ever find a job.
About a year after coming to California from New York to start a new life with me, Chris lost his job. It was well paying with good benefits, but it was not a good fit for him personally. I knew it, Chris knew it, and apparently his boss knew it too. So just days before his probationary period ended, Chris arrived to work one morning only to be abruptly given the news of his termination. Just like that, he was on his way back home.
He was never happy at that job, so it seemed like a blessing in disguise that he was let go. Initially it seemed like an opportunity to regroup and find a better fit for him personally and professionally. But what we did not expect was the downturn in the economy, which made what was supposed to be temporary derailment seem like a permanent ban from the rails. Click here to read more
See Part 2 of this series in the post below to read about my guest blogger, Thom Davis, and his experience of turning to drugs and alcohol to cope with his trauma and loss..
