Grief Counseling Groups



The saying goes something like “life is what happens while you were making other plans”. One of those walks, talks and quacks like a duck cliches whose truth you can’t deny. Life doesn’t tolerate back seat drivers, and that is what most of us our. If you aren’t going to get into the driver’s seat then I guess you shouldn’t be surprised at where you end up. Bad analogy? Not really. You have only so much control when you are driving. You are governed by traffic laws, weather and road construction. Life throws up its own versions of roadblocks and it has its own set of rules, one of them being mortality. There is an endpoint to every journey and life is no different.

A common theme among the widowed is a sense of the surreal when assessing their lives. Places that once seemed as familiar as your own face suddenly are as unrecognizable as the face that stares back at you from the mirror each day.  The strong desire to let yourself drift along fights a daily battle with the sense that where you are heading is not someplace you would have ever chosen to be. It reminds me of that Talking Heads song,

And you may find yourself living in a shotgun shack

And you may find yourself in another part of the world

And you may find yourself behind the wheel of a large automobile

And you may find yourself in a beautiful house, with a beautiful

Wife

And you may ask yourself-well…how did I get here? 

It’s easier to let things happen to you than to take charge and change your life or in the case of being widowed, salvage it and start over. I have seen many a person just give up and bend over. And why not? It’s effortless Being a victim of circumstances may suck but it doesn’t require any planning or major expenditures of anything other than the willingness to prostrate yourself before every ill that comes your way. And I suspect (actually I know) that those of us who do not fire up the GPS and look for a new route have probably always ridden at the back of the bus. How does the chorus go?

Same as it ever was…same as it ever was…same as it ever was…

Same as it ever was…same as it ever was…same as it ever was…

Same as it ever was…same as it ever was…

One of the founders of the WET widow group back in Iowa, Sandy Searcy, suggested that I start a widows group when I was settled in up here. Rob has even brought the idea of my doing that up from time to time, but like my working with At-Risk students, I would eventually find it too difficult to be supportive in that benign Oprah-ish way. Eventually I would start kicking asses and I won’t add “in a loving and supportive manner” because I doubt that it would be perceived in that manner. Some people are too much the author of there post-disaster lives for me to muster sympathy enough to mask my total frustration with them. While I can completely empathize with the need to sort things our, I can’t understand letting your life go down the shitter while you are assessing and reorganizing.

There is another song by a group called Switchfoot that I began listening to after Will died. It talked about how the past is over. There is no “do over” and in the now you have to take stock and ask yourself the hard question.

this is your life, are you who you want to be

this is your life, are you who you want to be

this is your life, is it everything

you dreamed that it would be

when the world was younger and you had everything to lose

I am not always the decisive, move ahead person I portray myself to be. I have moments when I am stuck and exasperating as my husband can attest to, but even when I don’t have the answers and the GPS is down, I have a sense of the need to know, to think, to reevaluate and to move. Even if the move is lateral, as long as its not back, it’s all good.


James Tissot - A Widow

Image via Wikipedia

The link at the bottom of the page is to a column in the local newspaper. My personal opinion of the paper and its editorial writers is fairly low. The newspaper itself is generally light on actual news, and whatever course reporters take in journalism school to learn about bias and the importance of neutrality and fair and balanced reporting is evidently not a required one judging from the slant in most of the news articles I have read. Columnists are generally exempt from being non-judgmental. In fact they are paid o be opinionated. Infuriating columns are read by those on both sides of the issues. Employing an irritating columnist or two (or all in the Des Moines Register’s case) is good for the business of selling newspapers. Newspapers are not in the business of reporting news these days, or maybe ever, as an educated and informed populace is not the point. News is entertainment and going strictly by the number of talk news shows and the heads that populate them, some people are being entertained at the expense of those who need to be informed.

Although it is hard to pick a least favorite member of the Register’s editorial team, Rekha Basu probably ranks close. She favors heavy-handed liberal social agenda stuff. Her style is fairly dry, and she is preachy. Her late husband was a much better writer. His style was personable in a story-teller way and had he chosen heavier topics, I think he would have easily proved his superiority. My dislike of her is personal though. It goes back to the early days of Will’s illness when I was trying desperately to get him on SSDI (Social Security Disability Insurance). Having been told by the kindly young man who walked me through the application process that it was fairly likely that Will’s claim would be denied, I was willing to try anything to call attention to our plight and elicit some help in getting him accepted. At this point I had already sent emails to both state senators and several legislaturers. I would eventually receive help from the Republican Senator, Charles Grassley, but at this point I was desperate.

Someone I knew thought that I should contact Ms. Basu. This person was a fan of her writing and thought that Will’s story was the kind of cause that Basu usually took up. And I have to admit, she does use her column to point out social inequities and injustices an often uses real life stories of Iowans to do this. Not feeling I had anything to lose, I sent her an email as well. Within a few days I returned home to a message on the answering machine from her and asking me to call. I did. I never heard back from her.

It wasn’t until much later that I learned, through her husband’s column, that she had joined me in the widow in waiting club around this time when he was diagnosed with ALS. Will was in a nursing home by then. It was closing in on the last summer of his life. I don’t think I paid much attention to the news coverage and columns that followed but to note that it must be better to be famous when you were terminally ill because you seemed to get more help and support that way.

She lost her husband the June after Will died. There was a lot of press coverage. She was sainted. Shortly after she began writing her series on Surviving. In her widow’s zeal to make sense of her tragedy by helping others, which many of us do early out, she wrote about all forms of loss as though they were equal. Any widow can tell you that in no way does losing your spouse compare with divorce or unemployment, but she was very early days and, evidently, number than most at that point.

There was a message board attached to the series. It invited people to comment and tell their stories. I was just coming out of the fog at that point, and shy I am not when it comes to sharing my opinion and feelings in a message board forum. Let’s just say, I could have employed more tact. But since no one ever responded to me, I quickly lost interest and went elsewhere.

A couple months later, Ms. Basu wrote a column about the WET group, Widows Experiencing Transition, that was active in the metro area where I lived. I had been trying desperately at that point to find a support group that wasn’t online. The only ones I could find though were mixed groups, not just for those experiencing the death of a spouse or for groups or widows and the divorced which I couldn’t fathom attending. Thrilled to know of a real live widows’ group I sent her an email. Judging from her reply, she had read my posts to her message board and apparently I was not someone she wanted to hear from. She sent the contact information for the group but wrote also that she didn’t think I was the kind of person who would benefit from it. Ouch. I wrote her an apology and then scurried off the the UK widows’ board to flog myself for having hurt her feelings. It was only then occurring to me that as the further out, I should have been more cognizant of the tone of my posts and more supportive of her efforts. It was a mistake I have since strived to avoid in my dealings with “younger” widows.

I don’t read Rehka Basu’s work much anymore. I find her writing clinical and self-righteous still though I was impressed by the piece she did on profiling when her son was victimized by it recently. I also read her column about the death of her mother-in-law which kicks off her semi-dormant surviving series was again. The link is below.