Grief On My Sleeve

 Happy Easter, everyone!

I have a quiet moment while everyone is occupied, and this idea came to me in Mass this morning and I didn't want to forget it!

While in Easter service, a gentleman in front of me was wearing a nice dress shirt with the word GREIF embroidered on the sleeve. (I've since deduced this is a company and not a clothing brand, and yes I know it's not the same as the word "grief" but that's what it looked like).

But it got me thinking...what if we labeled our sleeves? 

Nationwide Children's Hospital has the "On Our Sleeves" campaign to break the stigma of mental health, very similar concept! Mental health, suffering, grief, is often not something that is visible. It's easy to assume people are ok but we have no clue what's on the inside.

What if I had just labeled my shirt with the word, "Grief." Or, "Hurting," "Suffering," "Really sad," or maybe even, "Not sure if I'm still sane."

Then people would know. Kind of like a warning label, maybe more like a handle with care. 

Maybe if you're having a good day you can just wear, "Happy today!" and people can celebrate with you. And when you're wearing "sad" on your sleeve, people will find ways to lift you up.

It's just that it's hard to tell people how you really feel. A miscarriage, stillbirth, or infant loss is (as I've probably said a hundred times on here) very isolating. It feels like the world goes back to regular speed and you're stuck in slow motion.

Like those commercials for antidepressants where the world is in a bright, sunny day with chirping birds, but you have your very own storm cloud over your head.

I know I didn't really know how to communicate my true feelings in the thick of my suffering. What did I need? I'm not even sure I knew. So being "fine" was much easier than telling caring people who inquired how I was really feeling. 

Maybe if I could have just worn a sign, I wouldn't have had to tell anyone.

But alas, people would probably think I'd really lost my mind if I'd done that. So what's the solution? 

Find a person you CAN tell. Send them a text. Set up a code word. However you are able. Find a way to have at least one person you can be truly open and honest with, and then let them help you. Don't be afraid to tell them what it is you need. Often times, we as human beings just simply don't know how to help. It doesn't mean we don't want to, it just means we don't know what would be best for you. Because of that, get to a place where you feel ok just telling someone.

Do you need a hug? Do you need to just laugh at really stupid jokes? Do you want to go out and pretend like everything is normal? Do you want to just bawl your eyes out for awhile? 

Find that person and find that thing you need and do it! 

It's ok to let people into your pain. Good for you, in fact! We aren't meant to do this alone, so don't!

This Is Us

By Amy Tatz

Do you watch the TV show This Is Us? It's a pretty emotional drama about a family and their story. But I often find some of the lines from the show inspirational. Thus, this blog post. 

I won't give away spoilers, but this is something that Kevin said in one of this season's episodes.

"You ever feel like you're performing in a movie that no one's watching? You're trying to be the right kind of person instead of just...being that person."

He wasn't talking about grief, but that's what it reminded me of.

I hear all the time how the women and men who have lost a baby or child feel so alone, so isolated. I myself felt that way for sure going through my losses. Especially after the first week or so. Life around me had gone back to normal, yet I wasn't sure what my normal was anymore. I buried my child. That was not normal. I had to find the new norm and adjust to it. And I felt like I was doing it alone despite the family and friends who wanted to help.

And eventually, there comes a time in which "the world" expects you to act normal again. In the book Empty Arms by Pam Vredevelt, (which we are doing in our new peer-to-peer support group! E-mail us if you're interested!) one of her tips was to sort of try and fake it until you make it. I have mixed feelings about this but I understand what she's getting at. I just feel like there's a very fine line there, where we don't want to over-fake it, or constantly fake it. We still have our grief and emotions to process and it's important that we allow, sometimes even force, ourselves to do that. 

But sometimes, we do have to fake it. Maybe it's because we have children at home that we have to take care of and we can't always be falling apart. Maybe we have to go back to work. And for me, that's when the performance begins.

I'm in a movie no one is watching. No one knows that thoughts swirling in my head.

Was it my fault? What did I do wrong? My family is hurting and it's all because I lost my baby. Will I ever be ok? Will those donuts make me feel better? I really think they will. But now I have this weight to lose for the baby I didn't get to bring home.

No one knows the physical toll my my body is recovering from.

Blood loss. Anemia. Hormones crashing. Milk coming in with no baby to drink it. 

No one can see the total devastation on the inside.

They see the performance. And because the performance appears normal, no one wants to watch it. That's ok. I didn't want to be watched. I really didn't. 

But I even remember feeling like I wasn't doing the performance right. Was I crying enough in front of people? Did I look sad enough? Did I look too sad? Why couldn't I get it right?

Was I getting the happy act right? Why couldn't I just be happy? Why couldn't I just grieve right? Why all the acting?

I guess what I want to say is, it's ok to put a smile on your face to get through the day. It really is. But guess what? So is all the other stuff. The doubts, the hurt, the tears, the performance. It's all ok. 

And I also want to say that you may feel like you're performing in a movie that no one is watching, but I promise you, you actually do have an audience! And you should never hesitate to reach out to them for support, or laughs, or a hug, or a chocolate. 

And maybe, if you really think about it, you're not really acting. You're surviving, and that's huge!