Things that press the grief button …

The non-expert’s guide to being ok with not being ok all the time

Sunset over Hertfordshire - photo by me.

This week’s post is not about me although it is, yes a garbled start, nothing new for the eclectic eccentric ponderings of Linney. I want to try to explain how grief is triggered in years after losses to hopefully help others stop thinking “there must be something wrong with me” and feel abnormal because tears can still flow, particularly when those feelings are sudden and unexpected. I am not an expert, except in my own grief, nonetheless I hope recounting my own experiences will resonate with others. Over the years my grief has come in different forms, disguises and resulted from different events in my life.

I use the word grief in this post to cover different losses, not just bereavement, as grief can result from all kinds of loss. Retirement can mean the loss of a way of life, as can loss of a relationship - intimate, friendships or family, the loss of a home through finacial problems or fire, loss of employment, loss through burglary, loss of a pet and many more losses. Clearly, the impacts vary in intensity and emotion from event to event and person to person.

I dreaded Christmas 2024 with its associated bout of curmudgeonly grumpiness bought about by my losses. However, in many ways it was cathartic this year, even if it was one of my worst. It took two years to genuinely start rebuilding my life and accommodate the loss of John after over 40 years together. Then life was turned upside down for us all with Covid and a year later daughter died. I am only beginning to rebuild and accommodate her death four years after she had the stroke that took her life away two months later. I am not saying that I have been a wreck for the whole period I gave continued to live my life and not inflict my misery on others. Nonetheless that life has not seemed real and my BLCS (brown leather chair syndrome) has still played a significant part in my life.

My grief buttons, there are many, can be pushed by some many different things smells, sounds, journeys or for absolutely no reason. Sometimes I recognise it has been pushed other times it is only when it has past I recognise it was that dreaded grief again. The feeling can last for a few minutes or much longer. It was the Cristmas episode of Dr Who that got me thinking about this post. The guest character Joy was talking to her mother in hospital on her iPad. It bought back memories of Sarah’s last two months during lockdown. I wasn't expecting the scene nor my reaction.

The last few years have taught me a lot about myself, life, loss, and how to use my switch and the many buttons I have in front of me. Including, unlike my mask switch, my buttons can be unpredictable and often press themselves. I would like to add the buttons do not only open up to difficult emotions, they can open up warm feelings too.

Ok let’s unpick that last paragraph. I have often talked about my switch, it is a very definite action to mask the darker emotions I maybe experiencing. The switch is automatic often preceded by the phrase “pull yourself together Linney” and a slap on my hand. I no longer just use it for the sake of others, I use it for myself.

My buttons are very different, there are times when I want to be able to consciously press the cosy button, look at a photo and remember a wonderful family time on holiday or Sarah’s wedding with a warm glow rising up from my stomach, I can now do this and I will purposely scroll through photos. However, the buttons are not always so obliging and are unconsciously pressed by a fleeting thought, sight or smell sometimes the gloom descends, sometimes a warm feelings of days long gone and sometimes a bit of both. If I am in the car the tears may flow, other times it will start me on a train if thought into the misty parts of my memory grey cells and a smile will cross face.

I cannot name all the triggers, although songs are a major one. Even after 35 ears Gloris Estefan’s ‘There’s Always Tomorrow’ draws a tear into the corner of my eye. I listened to it driving up to Cambridge to say goodbye to my father and knowing there wasn't a tomorrow. The Black Horse advert sets me off, the song Giant by Rag and Bone Man was played at Sarah’s funeral and so the list goes on. I will not apologise.

There are other buttons. The A14 road from the A1 to the A14 remind me of past times driving to Birmingan for work. My emotions are jumbled. These include sadness at losing my professional identity yet relief at the realisation I am not under pressure to deliver. Deep sadness at the loss of my family life and the realisation I am returning to a house full of dogs not John.

Writing a memoir is obviously a BIG trigger even if self inflicted, and stirs up so many differing emotions and triggers. As I write these words they are all gambolling around my head, some like little lambs 🐏, other like lead boots with razor sharp spurs. The process has made me realise that I need to get my big girl’s big pants on and get back into London. Something I can now, after nearly 4 years, possibly maybe envisage myself doing.

I think what I am trying to explain is that you carry grief with you. The grief of losing someone close, or the loss of something very important in your life can stay with you and prick you when you least expect it, in the most unlikely places and triggered by the smallest things. Hide it if you want to, never apologise, never feel ashamed, it is called normal life and emotions.

Miss Mildred pressing her b*llsh&t button aged 5 months.

Prompts

Wat smells, sounds or tastes bring the following emotions to mind:

a) sadness

b) happiness

c) both

Sit with the emotions for a couple of minutes and then write ✒️ .

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