Dealing with grief during recovery

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to get through this thing called life. – Prince

Let’s talk a little about grief. It obviously comes in many forms. If you were, however, to look up the word in the dictionary it would tell you that grief means “intense sorrow, especially caused by someone’s death.” Yes and no right? Of course we all know that we grieve for lost loved ones. But I’ve definitely grieved for people who are still breathing oxygen right now. People who were once a huge part of my life and now feel as unfamiliar to me as a stranger. I’ve grieved for a future that I felt was stolen from me when my son was diagnosed with autism. Grief can descend upon our lives in many ways – and however it makes an appearance it can be so overwhelming that a way out of it seems inconceivable. But as I’ve mentioned; I’ve dealt with it before and obviously I’ve come through it, as we do. But that was then. I am now in recovery from an eating disorder. I can no longer rely on the behaviours I once used to help me numb the pain. Or at least I’m REALLY trying not to rely on them.

When I googled “Coping with grief whilst in recovery from an eating disorder” I didn’t really find anything that related to my situation. There are plenty of articles about grieving for the loss of the eating disorder, or that feeling that you’ve lost your sense of self in recovery. But not much about how to actually cope with losing a companion, whilst still trying to maintain progress in recovery. Nothing to really help me figure out how the hell I was going to manage to keep eating whilst slumping in to such sorrow. That kinda sucks seeing as grief is something we are all pretty much guaranteed to feel at some time.  So what do you do? I obviously don’t have the answers seeing as I’m freakin’ googling it……. But this is how I’m dealing right now, or at least how I’m attempting to.

Talking about it……or writing about it in this instance

Talking about a heartbreaking experience isn’t easy. Especially immediately after the event. I haven’t really wanted to talk with anyone face to face yet. But I do believe that getting it out does help. Firstly it allows us to just empty the brain of everything that is bubbling away inside there. Thoughts can feel relentless and suffocating if they have nowhere to go. Besides, letting it all spill out can also allow us to process what we are feeling. I shall attempt to do this now. Here goes…..

On Tuesday evening my beautiful Siberian Husky Mischa was put to sleep. Our lives had been intertwined for the past ten years. It doesn’t make any difference to me that she was a dog and it annoys me when the loss of an animal is sometimes downplayed in society. I loved her with a full heart, and perhaps that is my biggest downfall. I’ve known many people to have pets, to truly care for them, but their relationship doesn’t necessarily go beyond that. It doesn’t matter what or who I choose to love, If I decide to do it then I am all in. I don’t know how to love in half measures, I never have. So now I find myself here; left with this gigantic hole, both physical and metaphorical (she was 25kg of pure fluff). Every where I turn I expect to see her or hear her. She was my best friend – even when I complained about how annoying she was. She was my confidant so many times, my spirit sister – so stubborn and impatient, just as I am. And not only have I lost her, but I was the one who made that decision. The person who drove her to the place where she would close her eyes for the very last time. I’ve dealt with a lot of shit in my life but THIS is crushing. This is pain and guilt like no other.

And yes people will reassure me that it was the kindest thing to do.  Mischa had been struggling with her cognitive abilities for well over eighteen months. In fact, so much of what made Mischa who she was had frittered away slowly, like tiny dandelion clocks disappearing on a breeze. But she still looked well, healthy and strong. She still had a desire to run and eat and just be. So denying her the chance to continue to do all of those things feels like a burden too heavy for me to bear right now.

Euthanasia does of course have its advantages (urrrrrgh I feel awful even just writing that). We were able to have a full weekend together before she died. Doing all of the things she loved, eating the things she craved – but wasn’t necessarily always allowed; and cuddling as much as she would let me. But it still didn’t feel enough in that final moment, when she grew heavy in my arms. I lay on top of her, knowing my voice would be the last thing she would hear. I repeatedly told her “Mama’s here” hoping to offer some comfort, I think to myself as well as her. When she was gone I wailed – like actually wailed. The poor people in the waiting room outside. The poor vet and the lovely nurse. Poor Nick who stood beside me, also losing his beloved girl and yet wanting to be the “strong” one. In the end I had to leave him there and he took on the responsibility then of making the remaining decisions. I will always be so grateful to him for that.

So I guess the hardest part to deal with right now is not necessarily the pain or the loss….but the guilt. Or maybe it’s a messed up smoothie blend of all of those things together. I’m not sure. I just know it feels truly horrible. It took me three days to write the above couple of paragraphs. I cried many times doing so. But I’m glad those words and thoughts are now out of me. Perhaps it will help and perhaps it will get easier each and every time I tell that heart breaking story. All I can do is try it and sit with how it feels. If I held on to it alone and tried to just deal with it internally, I feel I might go insane.

Breathe

Meditation is and has been a huge part of my recovery journey. I realise to some that it seems silly even entertaining the idea that breathing can help in situations such as these. Before I started meditating I would never have believed it either. But I assure you, just breathing can do wonders for a body that is reacting to a sad or stressful stimulus.

For example. The nervous system is pretty much known as the control centre of the body. Whenever we find ourselves in a situation that we don’t want to be in, our sympathetic nervous system kicks in. This is basically fight or flight mode. The heart rate increases, blood pressure rises, our pupils dilate. All physical symptoms that can be triggered by stress, anxiety or depression. When we meditate and focus on the breath, we are counteracting all of this by accessing the parasympathetic nervous system – a much nicer place to be.

I’m not saying the flight or fight response isn’t useful. Back in our hunter gatherer days it would’ve been literally life saving. But we’ve kind of evolved past that point and to be honest, we no longer really need to access our sympathetic nervous system for help with day to day survival reactions. A lot of what is triggering this response can be soothed with meditation and the return to a quiet and more focused mind.

On the day that Mischa died I was definitely experiencing physical complications as a result of my emotions and anxiety. I threw up outside the vets. I felt nauseous for the rest of the evening. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t stop crying. When Charlie went to bed I logged in to the Calm App (I will talk about this app more in another post) on my phone and clicked on the “Emergency Calm” session – a meditation specifically designed to provide immediate relief when overwhelmed or stressed. I spent the next 10 minutes focusing on just breathing and it was SUCH a relief to think of nothing else, even if only for that short time.

If you have never tried meditation or mindfulness before and you’re looking for some tips on how to get started. Check out this super helpful article on Psychology Today. It explains a whole lot more about how introducing meditation in to your daily routine can help to ease discomfort and allow you to focus more on solutions rather than reverting back to destructive eating patterns during difficult times.

Self Care

Self care can come in so many forms. For me it’s a hot cup of tea, snuggling under a blanket with a good book or a steamy hot yoga session. I’ve indulged in all three of these in abundance this week. I know that self care can often feel awkward or uncomfortable for those of us suffering or recovering from an eating disorder. The idea of being kind to ourselves can still feel a bit alien or indulgent. But if we practice, as with all things, we get better at it. And in times of distress it is so important to know that we deserve compassion and understanding from ourselves. It’s about ensuring that you make the time to do the things that calm and comfort you. There is no right or wrong way to do self care because we are all unique and what works for me may be the complete opposite of what you find helpful. And please know that even if you struggle with this right away, this meeting your own needs…. it does get easier. Keep prioritising you and keep practicing.

Eat

Ahhhhh the kryptonite…. well for me anyway. I come from an Italian family. Forgive me if this is a swift generalisation but in my experience….Italian’s are emotional eaters. They eat to celebrate, they eat to mourn, they show their love with food. I mean when you think about it, this is actually a beautiful concept. But it has left me feeling like the odd one out SO many times. When I am sad, I’m not hungry. When I’m angry, I’m not hungry. When I am hurt, I’m not hungry. You see the pattern forming here? My appetite is always the first thing to flee when something untoward happens in my life. It’s not something I feel that I have any control over. It’s just the way I am.  And the eating disorder loves this because every time I’m sad, angry or hurt it sees it’s window of opportunity and it sneaks the fuck back in. “Ah your dog died, what a brilliant chance you have now to lose that extra half a stone you’ve been fretting over this past couple of months. Because you are too sad to eat right now.” EVIL – just evil. That’s the only word I can use to describe it. And I don’t just hear it once. I hear it constantly. I hear it now as I wonder whether I can even share this with you. Sometimes, I still listen. And I hate that. But I know the only way to make that voice go away eventually (and forever I hope) is to keep eating. Even when it hurts and even when it feels pointless. Because that’s what recovery is. It’s waking up every day and continuing to try. Continuing to fight, even it feels like you’ve already lost.

So I eat. Not on plan. Not probably as much or as regularly as I’m supposed to…… but I eat. And right now, in this moment, with these feelings, in this grief…. I’m congratulating myself for that. For just even showing up. For fighting the urge to undo all of the hard work I have already done. Because it will get easier, day by day, bite by bite, meal by meal. I won’t feel this sad forever. So right now I’m doing my best. And that’s all anyone can ever do.

I’m not sure if any of this will actually ever be helpful to another person who may be trying to deal with grief whilst in recovery from an eating disorder; be that the loss of a person or the loss of a pet. But it has helped me I think. And that’s enough for right now. I just hope that anyone who lands on this page, anyone who is grieving or mourning whilst also trying to fix themselves, finds some comfort or hope. Because whilst the pain does feel unbearable, whilst the loss is gargantuan…….this too shall pass. And then we will hopefully just be left with the sweet memories of our lost ones.

Run free now my wild, beautiful girl. Thank-you for every minute of the last ten years. I wouldn’t change a thing.

Beth Anne xoxo