I remember the moment Mum slipped away at home next to me under my
palliative care. The images are still sharp, crisp, intense and
visceral. My bodies response was just as potent. The strength of the
bonds I built with my mum due to me being her only...
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I remember the moment Mum slipped away at home next to me under my
palliative care. The images are still sharp, crisp, intense and
visceral. My bodies response was just as potent. The strength of the
bonds I built with my mum due to me being her only carer for 15 years
were unbreakable but they were also the reason things were about to get
real bad. My physical reaction to grief was immediate. That night, I
remember waking on my bed in another room, being held and comforted by
my younger brother. I couldn't remember how I got there. He informed me
that I smashed a TV and a console while I had a seizure. But I don't
have seizures or suffer from epilepsy. In the coming weeks, scans would
show that there was nothing wrong with my brain yet I continued to have
seizures including a sharp, sleep-depriving increase in hypnic jerks.
The diagnosis was psychgenic epilepsy. So this was happening because of
grief? I didn't know that grief could be so physical. I mean, I'd heard
some things but not to this extent. Over the coming weeks things became
worse and worse. Sleep deprived and missing my mum's words of wisdom and
comforting cuddles, my mental health took a dive. Despite being around
some family, I started to think that the world had forgotten about me. I
didn't feel just alone, I felt isolated from everything I thought I
knew. A stranger in a world that didn't have a place for me. You see, 15
years of intense, full-time caring meant I rarely left the house.
Friendships fell apart and my needs often were never even an
afterthought. Then, suddenly, I had to return to the professional
setting. My job, a secondary school teacher, had changed so much and I
was lacking in training. My experience with government support was so
abysmal that I lived without a wage due to the compounding stress the
system was adding to my mental health. Long term carers are falling
through the cracks but that's a story for another time. I also had to
sell the house because of greedy family members (another story). So in a
the space of a few months, I'd lost my mother, my house, my job and a
number of people that I thought appreciated what I did for Mum. Things
weren't looking good and I began contemplating the end. I knew it wasn't
a solution so I created a safety plan using the Beyond Now application.
A few months ago, something changed. It wasn't much but it was enough
for me to decide to go for a walk. Seeing people outside living their
lives, cars driving by and the sun, you know, the simple things in life,
had a profound effect on me. I honestly can't explain how this change
came about. Grief was so powerful I thought I'd be stuck in this cycle
of torment forever. But I'm not. I started visiting the beach, I started
playing the piano again - for me. I started taking care of myself.
Slowly, my confidence returned. Instead of feeling worthless, I started
believing that I had so much to give, I had value and I was worth
something more. For the first time in a while the sun was shining for
me. The world hadn't forgotten me. I'd forgotten the world and how to
live for ME. People were noticing. I was being noticed because I wasn't
psychologically huddled in a dark corner. I was proclaiming that I
exist. I even met someone truly special and we are building a healthy
relationship based on love, trust, compassion and understanding. I
thought I was going to die a lonely old man. I was convinced. I still
ask myself what the hell is happening and how was I able to recover from
this. But I recovered. I still miss Mum but I miss her with a smile. She
smiles right back because I kept my promise of living for me. I'm under
no illusion that everything will be perfect but I now also have the
skills and self-worth to deal with future trials better.
Welcome to the Grief and Loss section
