Oh, Anastasia. I wish I could be there to give you a hug. We could cry together, and talk, and perhaps find comfort and connection.
My husband died last April. I write about my experiences surrounding his death in my own Substack, Writer, interrupted. He was diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer the previous May. We were both retired, so I wasn’t taking any time off of work - except that I was. My writing was put on hold, as I took him to appointments, shopped, and did my best to care for his needs. Forget sleep, showers, cleaning, healthy foods. And as you know, the lack of self-care continues.
And our culture continues to have the delusion that it’s best to die at home, surrounded by family. We were married for forty-three years: who could be a more loving caregiver than his wife?
You are an extraordinary writer. You’re brave enough to say tell the truth out loud. Please know that you are not alone. It may feel that way, but you are not. And the light within you burns bright. It’s hard to reach out. But you’ve done so here. Sometimes it’s just one phone call. Or a person on Substack who gets it. ❤️
I feel all of this. My father died in August 2022 after a cancer diagnosis. The cancer was removed but the operation wreaked havoc til his death. His death face is the last image I see at night. for a long time I wondered how life was still going on around me. How it continues to this day. Keep writing, your prose just flows, it's as if I was listening to you talk right to me. Keep going, your hidden feelings need to be heard by all those suffering silently from grief.
Thank you so much. I thought it was just me. These raw truths are often hidden and not embraced. I embrace every single moment as do many of us. You simply needed to be heard, held and supported. I gobbled chips and fast food, barely chewing. You have a way with touching the raw center of my heart. Walking by your side.
Anastasia, if you need help finding a therapist, please let me know. I'm a therapist in NJ, but I have contacts, so I could ask about resources where you live. And/or, perhaps consider virtual grief support groups, if you haven't already (although I realize that some people don't want to hear about other people's losses too, on top of dealing with their own). In addition to all the loss you have experienced, it seems like you have internalized the critical voices of the people around you. I hope that you will find a way to be kinder to yourself. Thank you for sharing your story. I hope that it helped to release it.
I thought about you all day. Thanks for articulating the combination of isolation, grief, anger, and exhaustion caregiving brings. I read once that when our parents die, we become orphans and our pain is primal. I can't tell you how many essays and fiction pieces I wrote - hundreds of pages - after my parents, who lived next door through the the forest, died in 2008 and 2009, 365 days apart. I continue to grieve and always will. I talk with my mother and grandmother in the forest as I walk with my dog. I feel soothed and healed by knowing I carry them inside me. I looked up bereavement support groups today too. In our remote rural area, the hospital and the mental health/recovery center provided free in person support groups for those in grief. I've written about those groups too. Although not a group person, these were weekly places I could cry and share my complex feelings, as others did too. Keep writing.
Hi Anastasia, what a marvelous writer you are. It’s understandable that you are in a hopeless hole. But I think you know what to do to crawl out. Maybe start with one tiny thing that brings you joy - ??
This resonates with me so much and so deeply. I, too, have been robbed of years by caregiving for my mom for 5 months until her death, and then giving birth to a child who requires 24 hour care. Three years after our daughter was born, my husband was diagnosed with terminal vascular dementia. I still struggle with putting the pieces of my life back together again. The excess weight, the poor eating habits, the chronic illnesses and pain that resulted from the unbalanced load of caregiving took 18 years of my life and career away. I still care for my daughter who has severe disabilities, but we have home health nursing care now.
Grief is pervasive and all consuming .. you need to crawl out of your depression and make a step towards rebuilding your life . Your mom and grandmothers deaths are not your fault. But it is your fault if you give up on your own life. They would not want you to do this .. remember that always.
I think caregiving (whether that is for a parent or a partner) can be incredibly lonely and isolating - not for everyone, but for many. So many of the things you have said here resonate with me, and I am so sorry that you went through this and didn't have support to help you then or now. I wish there had been a meal train (or whatever they are called) that made sure you were fed or felt taken care of in some way. I always like to think "other" people have those things. I am sure writing it out or talking it out will continue to help. I hope you are taking those steps now (in addition to posting).
This is a brave and challenging essay and I really appreciate you writing it. You have amazing talent on the page and I’m grateful that you shared this here: I’m sure it was hard but one beautiful thing it’s done for me is that it’s reached a swimming pool side in Saskatoon and impacted me. Thank you.
Oh, Anastasia. I wish I could be there to give you a hug. We could cry together, and talk, and perhaps find comfort and connection.
My husband died last April. I write about my experiences surrounding his death in my own Substack, Writer, interrupted. He was diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer the previous May. We were both retired, so I wasn’t taking any time off of work - except that I was. My writing was put on hold, as I took him to appointments, shopped, and did my best to care for his needs. Forget sleep, showers, cleaning, healthy foods. And as you know, the lack of self-care continues.
And our culture continues to have the delusion that it’s best to die at home, surrounded by family. We were married for forty-three years: who could be a more loving caregiver than his wife?
You are an extraordinary writer. You’re brave enough to say tell the truth out loud. Please know that you are not alone. It may feel that way, but you are not. And the light within you burns bright. It’s hard to reach out. But you’ve done so here. Sometimes it’s just one phone call. Or a person on Substack who gets it. ❤️
I feel all of this. My father died in August 2022 after a cancer diagnosis. The cancer was removed but the operation wreaked havoc til his death. His death face is the last image I see at night. for a long time I wondered how life was still going on around me. How it continues to this day. Keep writing, your prose just flows, it's as if I was listening to you talk right to me. Keep going, your hidden feelings need to be heard by all those suffering silently from grief.
Thank you so much. I thought it was just me. These raw truths are often hidden and not embraced. I embrace every single moment as do many of us. You simply needed to be heard, held and supported. I gobbled chips and fast food, barely chewing. You have a way with touching the raw center of my heart. Walking by your side.
Anastasia, if you need help finding a therapist, please let me know. I'm a therapist in NJ, but I have contacts, so I could ask about resources where you live. And/or, perhaps consider virtual grief support groups, if you haven't already (although I realize that some people don't want to hear about other people's losses too, on top of dealing with their own). In addition to all the loss you have experienced, it seems like you have internalized the critical voices of the people around you. I hope that you will find a way to be kinder to yourself. Thank you for sharing your story. I hope that it helped to release it.
I thought about you all day. Thanks for articulating the combination of isolation, grief, anger, and exhaustion caregiving brings. I read once that when our parents die, we become orphans and our pain is primal. I can't tell you how many essays and fiction pieces I wrote - hundreds of pages - after my parents, who lived next door through the the forest, died in 2008 and 2009, 365 days apart. I continue to grieve and always will. I talk with my mother and grandmother in the forest as I walk with my dog. I feel soothed and healed by knowing I carry them inside me. I looked up bereavement support groups today too. In our remote rural area, the hospital and the mental health/recovery center provided free in person support groups for those in grief. I've written about those groups too. Although not a group person, these were weekly places I could cry and share my complex feelings, as others did too. Keep writing.
Hi Anastasia, what a marvelous writer you are. It’s understandable that you are in a hopeless hole. But I think you know what to do to crawl out. Maybe start with one tiny thing that brings you joy - ??
This resonates with me so much and so deeply. I, too, have been robbed of years by caregiving for my mom for 5 months until her death, and then giving birth to a child who requires 24 hour care. Three years after our daughter was born, my husband was diagnosed with terminal vascular dementia. I still struggle with putting the pieces of my life back together again. The excess weight, the poor eating habits, the chronic illnesses and pain that resulted from the unbalanced load of caregiving took 18 years of my life and career away. I still care for my daughter who has severe disabilities, but we have home health nursing care now.
Grief is pervasive and all consuming .. you need to crawl out of your depression and make a step towards rebuilding your life . Your mom and grandmothers deaths are not your fault. But it is your fault if you give up on your own life. They would not want you to do this .. remember that always.
Thank you for sharing this.
I think caregiving (whether that is for a parent or a partner) can be incredibly lonely and isolating - not for everyone, but for many. So many of the things you have said here resonate with me, and I am so sorry that you went through this and didn't have support to help you then or now. I wish there had been a meal train (or whatever they are called) that made sure you were fed or felt taken care of in some way. I always like to think "other" people have those things. I am sure writing it out or talking it out will continue to help. I hope you are taking those steps now (in addition to posting).
This is a brave and challenging essay and I really appreciate you writing it. You have amazing talent on the page and I’m grateful that you shared this here: I’m sure it was hard but one beautiful thing it’s done for me is that it’s reached a swimming pool side in Saskatoon and impacted me. Thank you.