Where The Heck Are You?? Grief and Secondary Loss.

Where The Heck Are You?? Secondary Loss.

The intense grief journey I experienced after my late partner, Nathan, died didn’t just mean missing him; it brought chaos to the stability of my social circle. Throughout my grieving journey and in conversations within widowed peer support groups, one of the most challenging experiences we often face is the impact of secondary losses that occur after the death of our person.

It’s the anguish of realising that friends or family we trusted don’t show up or offer support like we thought they would—like we would have for them if the roles were reversed.

The disappointment, despair, and loneliness of this reality compound grief and can be gut-wrenching.

Some people show their true colors by being present only for the fun times, then pulling out every flimsy excuse not to be there during the hardest ones. That kind of hurt cuts deep.

Losing our person is already one of the most challenging things to endure, and yes, it’s hard for everyone involved.

One reason people in Western society often avoid supporting a grieving friend or loved one is that we’re just not confident in grief language.

We are not comfortable holding space for each other to have conversations about grief. So from that perspective, it explains the avoidance—it can seem like the easier option.

The sad part about this is that it comes across as a selfish act of self-preservation. Unfortunately, this can be the case, but often there is this overriding element of simply not having the grief language skills to know how to be a support and/or manage personal grief.

After Nath died, moving forward and finding my new normal took monumental effort, but I’ve found gratitude in the trusted, genuine people who stayed and the new good souls who came into my life.

It’s these amazing individuals I hold close as I rebuild my life and find my new normal.

Acknowledging secondary social losses is essential throughout our grieving process. It certainly is not easy, it down right hurts. But trust me—you are not alone in your experience.

If this is you, remember that there are good humans out there. Don’t close off to others. Keep your heart open to altruistic people—they are out there! Rebuilding trust and finding connections that truly align with you is a tough journey, but so worth it.

What can also be helpful is acknowledging our experience and connecting with other people who “get it.” There are loads of grief peer support groups out there, so depending on your relationship type and loss, there will be one for you. If you are a widowed person, the Grief Connect® Widowed Support Groups were my connection to other widowed people who understood the depths of my secondary social losses.

If you are widowed and need connection and understanding from people who just “get it,” support is available right here: http://www.griefconnect.com.au/services/widowed-support-groups

So here is the write up from me and my share for International Widows Day: Widowhood is grief, and one of the deepest forms of grief a person can ever experience. It is a type of grief that I would never wish on my worst enemy. It is unfathomable to explain just how horrendous, devastating and lonely widowhood grief can feel. Yesterday, I did not write this blog like I had planned originally, because I was out spending time with one of my children. And let me tell you, as a widowed parent, I have spent most of my early widowhood feeling like I was the shittiest parent ever.

Firstly, because suddenly I was doing a job that I never signed up to do on my own. What a joke that was. It was supposed to be two of us. Nathan and I – riding the rollercoaster of parenting together. He was supposed to be alive and keep working as a parenting team alongside me.

Secondly, because even though I tried my best throughout all of my parenting, it was not always great. My children were not only managing their own grief, but they were also experiencing their mother’s grief. At times it as not pretty and was damned right ugly at times. I’m not proud of that.

My window of tolerance very small with irritability and impatience a go to in my mothering survival. I know what they have seen is a mum who has struggled with grief missing their Dad (and Step Dad). They have had a mum who has not ticked all the boxes of being a perfect parent. But lets face it… that’s a load of rubbish as there is no such thing as a perfect parent, only an ideal.

As a young widowed parent, I was forced to be questioning how I was going to continue find ways to keep feeding my children? How was I going to keep a roof over our heads long term? Could we stay living in our family home? Because one half of the household income is no longer there to pay the bills and Maslow’s hierarchy of basic needs was under threat. Because there is no crisis widowed payment from Centrelink (another issue for another write up) and it’s walking away from Centrelink with no support and in deep grief after asking for help with a “too bad, so sad” response.

Let me tell you that the feeling of not knowing if you can keep your house, some kind of continuing lifestyle for your kids, or how you are going to pay the car registration and many other bills that keep arriving, is absolutely terrifying and only serves to compound grief missing your person.

And that is just scratching the surface of what widowhood is about. Because when our person dies, our entire life turns into something we do not recognise, do not know, did not ask for, and never wanted. Within this deep grief, we are forced to continue pushing through to the next day. But quite often, that is too much. People wanting to help around make statements of good intent and say “just get through the next day”… NO. This is about getting through the next hour or the next minute. It is survival mode at it’s purest.

Yes, time has gone on for me. I never thought it would. But here we are, me writing, you reading, 8 years after Nathan died. My life has changed immensely in ways that I never thought possible. And also, as a widow, when I have days like yesterday, where I am functioning and multitasking like a boss again, and also spending quality time with my kids, that has to be celebrated, and means that it’s OK to write this blog a day late.

To non-widowed parents, yesterday, might have seemed like just another average day. Just another day of doing routine tasks. But for me, and for many widowed people out there, it is an achievement in grief, and in life. Maggie Dent, an incredible Parenting Expert advocates that ‘You just have to be a good parent 30-40% of the time’ on her “Good Enough Parent” podcast. So, yesterday, as a widowed parent, to be able to get through the day and feel like a “good enough parent” is something worth celebrating and I’m high fiving myself. I know Nathan would be high fiving me right back from the heavens. So I’ll take that and embrace it.

Because the reality is that for many widowed people, we can lower those percentage numbers… because running on empty and still making it to the end of the day.. or the end of the hour in one piece and only ‘just’ functioning is a huge achievement when experiencing deep grief.

To all of my widowed friends and peers out there who are pushing hard though each day, please know that you are freaking amazing. Huge credit to you for arriving at this point in time, right now. You are doing great, even though it doesn’t feel like it. I see you. Remember that you are not alone.

Celebrate the small wins. And remember that although it might not feel like it, there is hope and there is a future ahead.

As we move into the day after International Widows’ Day, others may move forward, but we remember.

We live being widowed every single day.

If you know someone who is widowed and grieving, please let them know about the Grief Connect® Community. A space for grief to be shared and supported by peers in live online conversations and posts. Access the community by clicking the button below.