Anticipatory Grief: Understanding and Coping with the Pain of Waiting
As many of you read in my last #MessyMovementMonday email, we have begun the journey of walking with my mom through hospice care.
The weird thing about hospice is not knowing and waiting. There’s a lot about these connecting systems that we just don’t know enough about. Within that time, you can experience a wide range of emotions, one of the prominent being “Anticipatory grief.” This idea suggests that we are awaiting a major loss or life change that we know will bring grief.
When I think about this experience with my mom, the pain that I feel is not just what will happen when she is gone from the physical but the pain that I do not have her fully now. The pain that one week I was talking to my mom about her Fourth of July plans, and the next week we were flying 2000 miles to be at her bedside. The pain of not knowing what I could not know. That is reason enough to grieve now. To grieve together. To wail loudly into the night until it’s empty. Start again tomorrow.
My anxiety often triples up on me at the thought of just waiting. Bracing myself for “that call”. I remember telling Mama during the height of our caregiving journey together that I wasn’t just waiting for her to die; I wanted her to live. Encouraging her to be more physically active was hard most days because the emotional drive/desire was not there. I wanted her to have an interest in doing different activities and moving as much as we were able, while we were able. She was starting to feel the distress and disconnection of the illness post-rehab.
I will admit that I was probably way more overzealous than necessary. Afraid more than anything as I look back on myself three years ago. I was always ready with a new craft, activity, or something to draw Mama away from the TV. She was not having it most days, but she would oblige from time to time. And of course, the instant we did the activity, she was painting beautiful stripes or tying up flowers or dancing to a new song with a little half-smile. I knew it wasn’t what she imagined this time in her life would look like, but I wanted us to make the most out of it all.
The uncertainty of it all definitely took its toll on us at times. In one of our moments together, I shared with Mama that I was definitely looking at God sideways for the way that things were turning out. She laughed a little and touched my face. I appreciate that, in all things about our relationship, she has fostered and given me true intimacy with God. She has never made me pretend or not question what was being taught. In similar ways to activities with Mama now, she would make sure I was surrounded by the activities and practices that she knew would shape my understanding and faith.
There were times in my youth where I was beyond comforting and raging at the ways life was handling me. Mama I know felt powerless and uncertain what to do. But a little music, some dancing, a good book, a nap, some good food, and maybe even a sermon playing softly in the background would bring my nervous system to a pause.
I watered my ivy plant this weekend and pruned some of the dead leaves. The issue was that the pot wasn’t big enough to hold all of the plants, and it needed more space for watering. Without sufficient space and water, it was withering away. The moment I shifted the plant on top of one of the larger plants and let it have free range of water on the soil and its leaves, it slowly sprung back to life. Its leaves are tight, standing proud, and full, like a big smile.
When times are hard, or life is handing us a confusing mix of signals, it can become easy to disconnect. We don’t want to lean into the things that make us feel good or give us rest because our bodies are locked in a specific narrative. We have to be willing to try different solutions when we find ourselves in that space where we are withering emotionally. What are we willing to do when we are in pain? What are we willing to do when life hands us complexity? What are we willing to do when we must sit with the uncertain and unknown?
I hope that you will be willing to get to your water, nourish your spirit, find ways to cultivate a sense of peace, rebuild a space of rest, and find whatever you need to bring out the best in yourself.
Here are four tips that I want you to explore.
Prioritize self-care: During times of anticipatory grief and uncertainty, it can be easy to forget about taking care of yourself. However, it's crucial to make sure you're getting enough rest, exercise, and nourishing food. Whether it's taking a relaxing bath, practicing meditation, or doing a creative activity, finding ways to prioritize your well-being is essential.
Accept your emotions: Anticipatory grief can be a rollercoaster of emotions, including sadness, anger, and anxiety. It's normal to experience these feelings, and it's essential to give yourself permission to feel them. Try not to judge yourself for having negative emotions and instead acknowledge and accept them.
Find ways to connect: When dealing with anticipatory grief, it's common to isolate yourself from others. However, connecting with others, whether it's talking to friends or family, attending a support group, or seeking professional therapy, can be incredibly helpful. Surrounding yourself with a supportive network can provide comfort and validation.
Focus on what you can control: While it's easy to feel overwhelmed and helpless during times of uncertainty, focusing on what you can control can be empowering. Whether it's taking care of practical tasks, finding ways to support your loved one, or creating a self-care routine, focusing on the things you can do can help you feel more in control and less helpless.
See you on the dance floor,
Rashi