In my Griefshare workbook, it's suggested I write a letter of my grief journey up to this point. Ugh. That's almost as complicated a task as outlining Amy's cancer journey and all we went through. What I am learning is my grief became very complicated up until very recently. I am now beginning to untangle the complications and go through it in a more healthy and productive manner. The complicating factors include the behaviors from Amy's family, the passing of my dad while Amy was sick, my geographical and social isolation and the attachment and confusion that arose via my relationship with R. These issues kept me from feeling and expressing my grief in a healthy manner and I'm just now seeing the extent of the influence.
It's difficult to write about Amy's family. I become angry and hurt still when I think about how her mother treated her and me. Mainly how she treated Amy her whole life... starting with physical abuse as a child and ending with her not honoring Amy and giving her the funeral Amy asked for and to which she agreed. I am still filled with fear and anger when I remember the ordeal at the Little Rock hospital and how she berated Amy about needing to know "the nature of our relationship" and tried to bar me from the hospital room. Such little respect for Amy her whole life. Wanda was and always will be about Wanda. But, what hurts is not what she did as much as how Amy's life was effected and how it broke her heart and wounded her spirit. Her mother's actions harmed Amy deeply and the wound was never fully healed. Although Amy gained great insight and was able to feel better about herself, a great unmet need was always left as an open sore in Amy's heart and it bled until she took her last breath. This is painful for me. Added to this pain was the fear and anxiety that surrounded the logistical factors after Amy passed and how her mother used me and lied to me. I got only a taste of what Amy endured her whole life.
Another complicating factor was my father passing when Amy was very ill. Amy, bless her heart, even cared for my dad while he was on hospice while we stayed at my parents' home for a couple of weeks. I never was able to fully mourn my father because I was in such a heightened state of worry and stress from caregiving for Amy and managing all that had to be managed... logistically and emotionally. My father's passing definitely was recognized and plenty of tears were shed, but I was not able to give the appropriate time and attention due to my circumstances.
Isolation complicated my grief as well. Isolation while Amy was extremely ill and suffering those last 2 1/2 years and even now. My preferred lifestyle calls for a rural environment and Amy preferred that as well. But, we found ourselves away from the friends we knew and at one point when we rented after having to leave Joshua Tree to be closer to medical care, we were 45 minutes from San Diego on a ranch with no friends. This was hard on me, but harder for Amy. After Amy passed away, I withdrew even more so while I am somewhat geographically isolated from friends, I became very emotionally isolated. I am just now beginning to reach out to people and reconnect. But, being so alone physically and emotionally during and after Amy's illness made grieving much more difficult. I became bitter and blaming of others to a large degree and engaged in a lot of self pity. I couldn't see what was going on until just recently.
R. Now, this relationship is complex and difficult to pen. She was inextricably linked to Amy's illness... the entire journey. In fact, she was at Amy's first stop at the VA. Amy loved R and R bent over backwards to help us navigate the VA system, get early results and just as importantly, give unending support and encouragement. She was much more than a case manager... she became a friend - especially to Amy. When Amy passed away, I reached out to R because of her connection to God, Amy and our whole cancer journey. She supported me, listened to me, cared for me and pointed me towards God during a time I felt disconnected to everything and everyone. Those were precisely the elements missing in my life due to Amy's absence and I wasn't equipped to handle the loss... or at least I didn't want to face the loss. Who does? I became more attached to R and developed strong emotional feeling for her. It was my way to avoid and numb the pain. Whereas some turn to alcohol, food, exercise, drugs or other means to avoid and deter grief, I formed an unhealthy emotional attachment that served as an emotional rebound. I attempted to deceive myself saying my feelings were not romantic in nature, but I could only keep up the lie for so long thank goodness. Then came the real difficulty. R. is a straight, married, conservative evangelical woman with children and as I got to know her better she disclosed, after my asking, that she felt homosexuality was a sin. I reeled... I was crushed and felt so abandoned and alone. Another loss when I wasn't even dealing with my central loss. But, because I was emotionally attached to R and wanted her love and approval, I began to question my sexuality and theology. It was several months of torture... trying desperately to fit into a theology I was told would give me "peace", "liberation" and closeness with God by letting go of the "sin" that separated me from God... the whole time feeling more and more confused and disconnected with myself and God. I was told God could transform me and only by trusting Him, submitting to Him and letting my own sinful desires fall away could I be transformed. I was told that the pain and confusion of letting go of my homosexuality was "the enemy" trying to win me back. And, I was told that through transformation I would most likely be rewarded with a relationship that was godly... with a man. The whole situation became so unhealthy because I was trying to "let go" of homosexuality not for God, but for a straight woman I had romantic feelings for which by the very thing I was attempting would never bring me close to her. I was desperate for a "promise" from God and love, approval and closeness from this woman I had developed feelings for and was so linked to Amy. As I became more lost, I became more dependent. Upon reflection, I think I used my dependency and need of guidance as a way to get close to her. I continued to go to her in pain and asking for guidance as it was the only way I felt close. As I shared who my emotional struggles with R as a way of seeking intimacy, the guidance I sought only led me further from myself decreasing my confidence, eroding what identity I had left, and increasing my depression, desperation and dependence on R. It quickly became a web of dysfunction and further pain. And, this whole while I further lost my identity, came to dislike myself, was filled with a significant amount of shame and felt utterly lost and alone in the world. When Amy passed I lost my identity and purpose in many ways... as caregiver, partner, best friend... and I lost all my dreams for the future. With R, instead of rebuilding my identity with the support of a friend, I became more disoriented and build a phony relationship with God and attempted to regain what I lost with Amy through a relationship about as real as house of cards. I was even trying to fool God as I had tried to fool myself about the nature of my feelings towards R. "I" became hidden, "shame" became hidden.... and there was only a shell walking around trying to feign prescription I was told would bring me wholeness.
One thing I want to be sure and emphasize is that this is in no way R's fault. I do not blame her or hold her responsible for any of the above. She never imposed this on me or forced it on me. I asked her, and I sought direction from her. She only did what she thought was loving and thought would bring me to a better place with myself and God. Regardless of whether she is right or wrong in her theology, the point is I had NO BUSINESS exploring a matter of such depth and significance while in the throws of grief. There is no way I could have examined such a defining part of myself while on my knees from a loss and wound which had not healed. There was far too much confusion, pain and overwhelm to embark on such fundamental self examination during such a difficult and delicate season in my life.
Things came to a head with R and I exhausted her with my need, heaviness and most likely feelings of responsibility on her part. She has withdrawn for a period of time. While I know she did this mainly for herself, I am grateful. It allowed me to hit a bottom with no place to run and numb. There was all of a sudden no escape from the grief of losing Amy and what my life is and questions surrounding who I am and where I'll take my life. It forced me to either resign to depression or seek out different means of support. I chose to take action. I chose to forge a new direction and it has been such a blessing. I'm now starting to go back and work from the beginning. I'm learning to surrender to God in ways that although extremely painful, feels very right. In the midst of my letting go, I feel the promise and presence of God. I do feel like a subtle transformation is taking place. And, I'm in no hurry. I can't rush God... God will work with me according to His timing. I just try and make myself available and receptive. It's humbling, frightening and disorienting, but I have faith I'll be okay. And, I don't know what "okay" will look like and for the first time in my life I'm not demanding to know. Like my pastor said, the promise is about being willing to go on the journey, not know the destination ahead of time. And, for the first time I'm beginning to understand what he meant when he spoke to me after Amy passed and said all my needs must first be met through God before I can have needs met in a healthy manner in a romantic relationship. He said my needs would be too great for any one person to handle. But, God can handle my needs. God can handle my intensity. I have faith God will heal me and send me out again.
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