Got a couple anniversaries coming up
 

August 25th is 3 years since I lost both my mother and grandmother (they died on the same day) and September 11 marks 14 years since I lost my sister.

As you know, these types of things affect me in negative ways. I am anticipating ways to handle them without drinking.

AF, sounds good that you are looking to plan ahead. Have you joined the current class thread? Are you planning to visit SR daily? Do you need f2f support? Go for whatever it takes to get the job done.

Oh artfriend, such a sad time for you.

You're being prepared which is half the battle. It isn't a trigger you can avoid so you have to face it head on.

Keep with us and posting, we will be there with you. x

Last year I had just joined SR and I do remember posting but I was not in a good state of mind and was drinking. So I've learned that I must prepare ahead of time now. I am not sure what I need in terms of support. I will stay close here. Thanks!

Sometimes just writing it out helps. So don't be shy, put it in words. It's strange when you see it written how different it can be in our heads.
Take care. x

I've been reading a lot about how cathartic writing can be. It is used also in recovery of physical issues like arthritis.

Oh that's interesting! I have it in my left hand, which I don't write with, but type with. My right hand is ok.

I heard about 2 twin sisters in their twilight years. One had chronic arthritis in her hands the other was free from it.

Only difference was, the twin sister who didn't have arthritis had knitted a big part of her life and the other twin sister did not knit! There's got to be something in that.

There is a technique called Expressive Writing that purports to aid in the healing of physical and psychological trauma. Here is a link about it -

Emotional and physical health benefits of expressive writing | BJPsych Advances

There's some good advice here already AF.

One thing I have learned in recovery is its perfectly ok to be sad.

I was terrified of feeling sad for a long time - I feared it would overwhelm me - but it doesn't...there's a beginning and an end, and I get through it ok, especially with support :)

we'll all be here for you :)

D

I get that Dee - sometimes my sadness is so palpable that I think I might go mad.

I wish I were not but I'm a bit of an expert on grief and not drinking. Grief $ucks plain and simple but I made it through the one year anniversary of my daughters death and 2 weeks later her birthday.

My plan on the anniversary was to do a AA Meeting, go to my favorite place on Lake Michigan have a wonderful lunch with my wife and spending the day at the beach. On her birthday I baby sat my 3 yr old grandson and when he is around there is no time to crash and burn.

I received this from a friend who's son committed suicide and it really spoke to the reality of crushing pain. I hope it helps you as well.


I'm old. What that means is that I've survived (so far) and a lot of people I've known and loved did not.

I've lost friends, best friends, acquaintances, co-workers, grandparents, mom, relatives, teachers, mentors, students, neighbors, and a host of other folks. I have no children, and I can't imagine the pain it must be to lose a child. But here's my two cents...

I wish I could say you get used to people dying. But I never did. I don't want to. It tears a hole through me whenever somebody I love dies, no matter the circumstances. But I don't want it to "not matter". I don't want it to be something that just passes. My scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love. So be it.

Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even gouged, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can't see.

As for grief, you'll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you're drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it's some physical thing. Maybe it's a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it's a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive.

In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don't even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you'll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what's going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything...and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life.

Somewhere down the line, and it's different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O'Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you'll come out.

Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don't really want them to. But you learn that you'll survive them. And other waves will come. And you'll survive them too.

If you're lucky, you'll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks.


One thing I know for sure is drinking will make a bad situation worse.

I know...I have been bereft and maddened with sorrow....but I also know from this side of the fence my fear of being sad was always even greater than the sadness itself.

I also know now that I can let people in, and it does help :)

D

Thanks for the link Artfriend.

That makes a lot of sense Dee. Thanks

MIR - thank you for your heart felt response. I am so very sorry for your loss. I have been told that a loss of a child is like no other and I believe it.

Thanks for the response. Losing my daughter was worse than anything I can explain but that does not give me permission to drink. What possible good would I get out of drinking? It would not bring her back, it would hurt me, it would hurt those that love me. There is no up side absolutely none.

So if I can't drink I better figure out a way to deal with the crushing grief sober. It is not that I am somehow special. There really is no other choice.

There will always be a reason to drink just no good ones