Dear Grief: You Are a Real Motherplucker

An Unplanned Absence...

For those of you who pay close attention to my postings, who loyally follow me on social media, who I am honored to call friends, for those of you who notice, you have noticed. My family has noticed, my co-workers have noticed.

I am known for posting a lot. Every day. At least twice. Quick TikToks, bantering Linkedin posts and comments, a semi-weekly newsletter, and it all stopped.

My phone is filled with texts, emails, messages and notes - asking if I'm okay.

Yes, I'm okay, and no I am not okay. Yet my experience is pretty much a universal one, and for those of you who experience this, it is my sincere hope that you feel seen and heard and felt.

How did we get here?

The Last Domino

As I look back over the last few weeks, there's a part of me that is surprised that it took this long. As I review my life since 2020 it's been like everyone else, a bit of a roller coaster - and in the span of 2 years I went from working a full-time corporate job to a string of consultant roles, I lost the lease on my apartment and have spent the last few years hopping between Airbnbs and my Mother's house, I lost my long-distance relationship because of COVID, and most importantly I lost my Mother to cancer.

Despite all of this, I'm an optimist. I wanted to be a consultant, I wanted to travel a bit instead of just moving back to NYC, I wanted to get into content creation. Every closed door is a new one opening. When my ex and I ended things, I found myself more grateful for the memories instead of sad that it was over, and when my Mom passed and I finally moved out of her house, I found myself sad, but I was still highly functional, I was driven, I paid bills, I took care of my cat, I created new content, I thought I was okay. When I shared the loss of my Mother people made the appropriate noises and I could immediately tell the difference between people who were trying to empathize and people who KNEW. The constant response was the same "the pain never goes away, you just learn to live with it"

Well...I considered myself lucky because the truth is, while it rocked me to my core, I didn't really feel day to day pain.

2 weeks ago, I received news that my last living grandparent, my grandmother on my Father's side, passed away. I loved her dearly, but hadn't seen her in a long time and we spoke once or twice a year. I felt bad that I didn't have a chance to say goodbye to her and regretted that I didn't go to visit her.

I decided to put on a TV show to help me escape, I went with the darkly comical magical series The Magicians - basically an adult version/mixture of Harry Potter meets The Chronicles of Narnia meets Buffy The Vampire Slayer. It was Saturday afternoon and I had the whole day to get lost in this.

Within 3 episodes I was immediately soothed and lost myself in the fascinating and dark world of Brakebills, at some point around episode 8 I dozed off. The next morning, I woke up, got myself some breakfast, did some errands, talked myself into doing a lazy "self-care" day and sat back down and lost myself.

My delightful little Black cat, King, curled up around me and I turned the A/C on the highest setting and settled into comfort.

Ripping Off the Patch (some mild spoilers for The Magicians Season 1)

Without giving away too many spoilers, there is a very dark and violent story arc that one of the main characters suffers through - though almost brilliantly, it's hidden.

You follow their primary arc for most of Season 1 religiously, the writers spend a good amount of time on it and all of a sudden, the arc just ends.

For a few episodes, there is no mention of it, even though there is ample time for the character, and you almost think you must have missed an episode. There is mention of the story points told in flashback, but ...they aren't what was shown and it just seems almost like bad writing. It was such an important arc that was building towards a climax, and now it's just being glossed over.

A full few episodes later, it is revealed that the character in question suffered something horrifyingly traumatic and violent and had asked for another character to give them a "memory patch" something that made them forget what had actually happened and replace it with false pleasant memories. The memory patch was crude however and was accidentally removed.

Between taking a moment to appreciate the deftness of the story-telling, while watching this character see and relive the horrific events that actually took place, I felt a deep shift in myself.

As I was watching the character suffer and struggle with the truth, I heard something unexpected. I was sure it was King, and even went to pause the TV to make sure he was okay. He had lifted his head meaning he had heard it too, and then I realized my face was wet and in a panic thought my nose was bleeding.

I paused the TV and realized the weird choking sounds were coming from me. My face was drenched with tears, the emotional uproar that I thought was in sympathy to the character was actually for me, my "patch" had just been ripped off and there was a glaring, red raw sun of grief and loss just waiting to burn through me.

What the F...?

My most cohesive thought was genuine surprise. Where the F**K did this come from?

It came in tidal waves, one after another, just these dizzying spells of grief and loss and pain, and after a good 45 minutes - it finally subsided and I finally calmed down and could catch my breath.

Finding Laughter

In the throes of this grief storm, I decided to try and articulate my feelings. I didn't want to call anyone or put this on anyone, but it felt too BIG to just have an internal monologue, so I picked up King, who was very polite and kind about the whole thing and I told him everything in a rambling series of choked sobs about why life takes things away and that I knew he was 15 and soon I'd have to say goodbye to him and that wasn't fair either.

I told him how much I missed stability, that I wanted a place to find home, but where should I go? NYC no longer felt like home to me, but what place did? Should I return to work full-time or keep consulting? As a Taurus, the idea that for almost 3 years I've lived a life without any home/hearth or stability was naturally very daunting. But what do we do? How do we find where home should be? What path is the right one?

He looked at me very seriously for a moment and then lifted his face, I thought we were about to have a moment, like the depth of my feeling and love for him somehow transcended the animal/human communication problem, but no, he had noticed my empty bottle of Pineapple Soda and began to enthusiastically lick the top of it. For whatever reason King absolutely LOVES to lick plastic, and as he went to town on my soda bottle be began purring contentedly and the whole whimsical farce of this scene was too much for me and now interspersed with the chest-wrecking grief was peals and gales of laughter.

Then What Happened

It was my sincere hope this was more of a "fit" or an "episode" but unfortunately things got worse and to top off the already great weekend, I began to suffer some very scary symptoms for a single male in his early 40s: severe chest pressure, sudden radiating sensations in my arm and back, difficulty breathing, cold sweats - and 3 hours later I was checked into an Emergency Room.

Luckily I was not having a heart attack, but I was extremely hypertensive. Even after 2 days in the hospital, my blood pressure was very concerning and originally optimistic the medical team grew concerned and I spoke to a number of cardiologists. I was eventually released when they found the right combination of meds and in speaking with a Psychologist I was told that emotional symptoms of grief and sorrow can manifest like a heart attack and that it was probably time to confront the very real signs my body was telling me - that I was not okay, but at the same time my very high blood pressure was a legitimate health concern that needed to be closely monitored.

For several days I was kept to bed rest, and then light duty and had to take my BP 3-4x a day I could do light computer work but couldn't do anything strenuous, which caused me to miss a huge event I never thought I would (another post on that another time) and a few days ago I was formally given a clean bill of health with a lot of directions both physical and emotional.

Petition for the English Language to Change the Word "Grief"

Ever since that day, it feels like the last year has been an exercise in survival, but it reached a point in which I could no longer continue with it.

In the funny way we use words, I find the word "grief" almost comical. It seems almost friendly. It's one syllable. It smells of Charlie Brown and childish pranks and old English queens in flowing black gowns sipping tea in green manors. It's regal and distant. It doesn't have the poetic ring of sorrow or mourning, and it's missing the health concerns of depression. It's stoic, stately and honorable.

But it's not.

Grief is a MOTHERFUC*ER and it's tricky and wily and confusing and a nightmare.

Grief is waking up at 1pm on a Sunday, and feeling irrationally angry that you woke up and having to talk yourself out of taking an ambien at 5pm to go back to sleep.

Grief is sitting in front of a computer with a to-do list of 11 things and just staring at thing 1 for an hour.

Grief is 100 unanswered texts, messages, emails, comments and calls.

Grief is laying in bed with King in the cool air conditioning and remembering the last moments, of holding her hand as she took her last breath.

Grief is having a meeting and keeping a stoic face as someone walks through a 150 line spreadsheet while your mind is going "Ok, this meeting is just 29 more minutes, then you can fall apart, then you can get up and breathe and oh my god your mother is dead, you will never see your mother again, she will never see her grandson turn 5 and oh my god how is this person talking about new hires when your mother is dead?!" and then nodding enthusiastically when the person asks if you agree.

Grief is sorrow and sadness and anger and depression and loneliness and horror and trauma all wrapped up in one delightful bomb in your chest that feels like it's always ticking.

Grief is wanting to suddenly text your brothers, but not wanting to put "this" on them, because they have families and lives and knowing they are suffering too, but how do you suffer together?

Grief is bitingly lonely in that you know this is a shared universal experience and you know you have joined a club filled with good people who have this exact experience, yet you know this road will be walked alone. You can't fix their grief, and they can't fix yours. It is delightfully your journey alone.

Grief is the weird "well, that's a silver lining" feeling that you are now doing your Mom honor and feel like you are finally mourning her in the way that you haven't over the last year and you feel strangely proud of that.

Grief is the strange relief that you now understand what everyone was talking about when they said "the pain never really goes away" and you take strange comfort in the fact that this is such a universal experience.

Grief is the sudden and unexpected tearing up at the stupidest and most inconvenient of moments and feeling so helpless to them.

Grief is the sudden overwhelming feeling of walking and feeling like she is hugging you, and you are arguing with yourself because you are just imagining that right? But what if you aren't and what if she is?

Grief is asking yourself over and over again - what do you do with all the love you had with your mother? Where do you put this?

How do we wrap this thunder lightning storm of raw unchecked emotion into a word that almost sounds like a burp?

In Closing

I really wish I had a wise or happy way to end this. I definitely feel better, this article has been on my mind since the day it happened and it feels cathartic to finally put this down to paper. I feel like I can be productive so I don't want people to worry, I just want people to feel seen.

For those of you who know this feeling, who walk this path, who are managing their experiences, you are seen and heard and valued and a new member has joined your ranks.

If your Mother is still with us, please give her a hug from her sons - who loved her more than they could ever express.

~Daniel