"Bereavement Brain"

Empty. . .hollow. . . aimless. . .unfocused. . .all these words describe how I have been feeling for the last couple of days.  There is an empty hollow feeling that leaves me wandering aimlessly through the house, unable to focus on anything that needs done or anything I normally enjoy doing.  So much to do and my normal excuse is not enough time to do them.  This excuse is not completely accurate, although time is a part of the issue.  No, lack of focus and concentration is the true culprit to not getting things done.  I think I finally understand, at least a little bit, how Scott had such difficulty focusing and concentrating with his attention deficit disorder.  It is difficult to focus on anything that I am reading -- whether the Bible, devotionals, Christian fiction, etc.  I even have a new book from my favorite author on my Kindle -- have had it for about a week and a half -- and haven't even begun to read it.  I can't really bring myself to start it.  I'm not sure I could focus on it well enough to really enjoy it. 

I described my lack of focus and concentration to my supervisor the other day as “bereavement brain.”  However tongue in cheek it was to say that, it is an accurate description of how I am functioning right now.  I am usually very organized at work, on top of things, rarely forget to complete things.  I am usually calm in dealing with crisis (although I do vent before and after).  Now, I dread crisis as I feel emotionally drained and ill equipped to handle crisis in the best way.  I often am forgetting to do things – unless I write them down.  I have misplaced things both at home and work.  This is frustrating to me as I am not use to functioning this way.

I never realized how much of grief feels physical, not just emotional.  Scott use to describe feeling a physical pain in his depression.  I didn’t understand that, having never experienced it.  I now have a different perspective on it having experienced some of the physical symptoms of grief – the empty hollow feeling, a jittery unsettled feeling, the lethargy, etc.    I alternate between times of numbness and no feeling, with times of feeling unsettled, and feelings of intense grief and loneliness.  I don’t have control over what I’m feeling at any given time. 

There is such a lack of control in losing someone to death that it feels like the rest of your life is spiraling out of control.  While that is usually just a matter of perception, the tendency is to grab on tight to the rest of your life and whatever you can control – usually to the extreme, which isn’t healthy either.

 I can’t shelter and coddle Jaelyn, I have to allow her to live a “normal” life as much as possible.  While my tendency is to want to keep her close, it takes conscious effort to take a step back and follow her lead with how she feels comfortable and even cautiously push her comfort zone a little in certain areas.  At times it involves pushing her to stay involved in activities and not allowing her to isolate herself from trying new things.  Her tendency, as is my own, is to become a homebody and not put herself out there with people.  As an adult, I understand my tendency and that it is not what is best for me.  As a result, I often push myself to be with friends and family, or try new things.  I will not allow myself to isolate.  Once those walls go up, it would be even harder to take them down.