People keep asking me how I am. I’m grateful, truly I am. It’s just that once four people have looked at you sorrowfully and asked you how you’re going in the space of about 30 minutes, it can be hard to find the answer.
Because, frankly, I don’t really know how I am.
People need me. There are things to be done. Life moves on whether you want it to or not.
Not to mix metaphors (oh, why not?), I’ve got the blinkers on, head down, looking for the next bend in the track (the home straight being an unthinkable goal) and while I’m doing that, I’m paddling madly underneath it all in the hope I won’t sink.
That’s how I am.
Master of Something I'm Yet To Discover 
“How are you?” is a well intended question that isn’t always helpful. Sometimes it’s sufficient simply that you ARE.
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It is hard because I know people ask because they care. But as someone said to me yesterday, when they ask, it’s hard not to lose your grip on things, then they go and you’re left trying to pick yourself back up again. It can be exhausting.
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My standard answer at present when asked? Next question!
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Ah, yes. And what should you answer anyway? I mean the question is rhetorical at best. Of course you’re not great right now. Grief is an awkward one to try and help with. You want so much to help, but there just isn’t one thing someone can do to lessen your burden. Personally, I just clasp a hand to someone’s shoulder or (if I know them well) give a quick hug just to let them know they’re not alone and that I’m there if they need anything. One of those times when words just can’t cut it. Anyway, consider your shoulder clasped. 🙂
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A shoulder clasp is greatly appreciated. Thank you. 🙂
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There’s something almost interesting in the fact that when Chic died no-one ever asked me how I was. I believe people unthinkingly categorise grief; and to the less aware your deep loss is in a pigeonhole that allows them to ask that. Alas for their lack of understanding: grief is grief, regardless.
Chin up; put your best foot forward; things will turn out fine tomorrow …
Et apart à toute ça merde, how are the rest of the blokes in your life ?
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When my sister and niece died, people would ask me how my parents were or how my brother-in-law was coping. As you say, they’d categorised my grief as less important, despite the fact that it was all I could do to get out of bed in the morning and some days I had to remind myself to breathe.
The blokes seem to be managing but they are much of the reason for keeping my head down and paddling furiously. Uni selections must be in, Year 7 electives must be chosen, boys need running to and fro from this and that. Life goes on, as they say, but I do wish it would go on at a more sedate pace.
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Don’t wish that. In your heart you know it’s a much better thing for you to be run off your feet. Because we don’t “need time to grieve”: we grieve all the time, and giving ourselves over to it doesn’t help AT ALL.
X !
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As always, you are right, O Wise One. [bows]
And anyway, I’m not much of a one for the sedate life at the best of times so even if I got one, it wouldn’t be long before I was looking for a way to un-sedate it.
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I’m about as wise as your average … postman. [grin]
(I had to think about that !)
And you don’t need anyone to tell you anything, anyway – how’s THAT for three ‘any’s in one phrase ?! I suspect you know yourself pretty bloody well, H.
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I’d have gone with ‘politician’ if you really wanted to make a point.
😀
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I shall NEVER stoop to allying myself to one of that weird species !!!! Pfuh !!!
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I’m afraid I am one of those people who would be guilty of asking the question ‘how are you?’. It’s a combination of never knowing the ‘right’ thing to say, the awkwardness, the desire to simply give a hug – but not knowing if it’s appropriate or would be well received.
Consider yourself hugged in lieu of words.
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It’s tricky, I’ll concede. I’ll take that hug gratefully. 🙂
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I’m not going to ask questions, just send more hugs and an electric motor.
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The hugs are welcome and the electric motor even more so. You always know exactly the right thing to send, M-J. 🙂
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Can’t send a hug – you don’t know me from Adam – but the thought’s the same. Don’t know if this will help, but it might.
http://helenmeikle.wordpress.com/2011/10/27/the-elephant-in-everyones-room/
Anyway, I’m thinking of you. A lot.
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Thank you, Helen. That did help. A lot. And so very true.
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It’s a good drawing of a horse
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Oh, I’m so glad it looks like one because I wasn’t so sure it would when I started out! 🙂
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