“What types of coping skills have you tried and were there any that stood out as being particularly helpful or particularly harmful to you?”
I recently read that question in a survivors’ group I’m a part of, and as I started to answer, I realized that I had a much more complex answer than I’d originally thought, so I decided to blog it instead and just post the link.
For me, it was a multitude of things that helped. Since I’m a recovering alcoholic (15 years then, 21 now), alcohol was not an option. I even told his friends to please remove whatever he had in the downstairs fridge so that I didn’t have the means if the thought should creep in at 2 AM.
I started with therapy – LOTS of therapy – and recently finished my EMDR, which was so much better than I had thought it would be.
I tried, in no particular order, essential oils, burning incense, meditation, writing, breaking things, sleeping with rocks under my pillow, wearing hippie clothes and no make-up, reckless driving (I drive pretty fast anyway, but this was downright dangerous – think passing on curvy, hilly roads on a double yellow), screaming, yelling, crying, shaving my head, eating carbs and comfort food, shaking the box, traveling – a LOT, float therapy, shopping for anything and everything, scrolling on the phone, and sharing our story.
So… here’s my breakdown of all of the above:
Essential oils: I used them to try to give myself a pick-me-up, to make the house cheery, to calm me, you name it. I spent a fair amount of money on them, when previously, I kept only lavender for sunburn and sleep, peppermint to keep away spiders, and Thieves for anything. Although they smelled good, they didn’t really do anything to change my mindset or my emotions. The money I spent was just gone, but I still keep the original three and I actually added vetiver and chamomile because I like the smells.
Burning incense: I tried burning incense at night when I went to sleep. I got one of those waterfall burners and burned white sage, myrrh, Nag Champa, Palo Santo, sandalwood, and patchouli, alternating them each night. This actually didn’t help, and buying in bulk on Amazon cut down the price significantly, but the amount of work to clean the burner was just more than I wanted to do at the time.
Meditation: I had to practice guided meditation for a while, but I finally got to a place where I can be still and quiet, and I still use meditation today.
Writing: I have always been a writer, so writing is nothing new to me. Now, I don’t only write about my journey, but basically about anything I want, and I have 3 very different books in the works as well as the blog that I started.
Breaking things: I will never pay to go to a smash room or rage room… go to the nearest thrift store, buy a bunch of random dishes, get a tarp and safety glasses, and smash shit in the driveway! It was really helpful, and not expensive. I still have a bin of mismatched dishes that I can smash anytime the need arises.
Sleeping with rocks: So, I went to a local metaphysical shop and ended up having my chakras read… then I ended up with a little sachet of crystals that were supposed to help. I left them at a friend’s house a few months later and never saw any difference one way or the other.
Wearing hippie clothes and no make-up: I just wanted easy, bulky, and something to hide behind. This was very short-lived, thank goodness!
Reckless driving: I honestly didn’t care whether I lived or died at that point, and I was so impatient, that I wanted control over anything I could get control over. My 6-speed manual transmission sports car is about as good as anything, and it has a turbo engine, so I knew I had the power to get around anyone. Somehow, every time I did something stupid, I felt a sense of empowerment, as if I was taking back something that had been taken from me.
Screaming, yelling, crying: All of them helped me to get out the rage I felt – at the Sheriff’s Office, at Grubby, at the unfairness of life, and they were all beneficial.
I shaved my head because I wanted easy, and I love short hair. Plus, I can actually wear short hair! But – and there’s a big “BUT” here – I don’t have a cute head like Sinead O’Connor. I was too fat for a shaved head, and I didn’t look as cute.
Eating carbs and comfort food: Some people stop eating when they’re grieving, which used to be the case for me, but this time was different. I ate my grief… a whole little person! I gained 70 pounds, exactly half of my weight the day Grubby died! I got so big that I was almost unrecognizable, and I hated it! I went from a size 4 to a size 16 (which should have been an 18!) within a few months, and I stayed that way for about a year and a half, until my dad had a heart to heart with me about my weight. I knew I was fat, I knew I wasn’t happy, and I knew what I needed to do, but I couldn’t put down the comfort food. I finally was fortunate enough to get into a peptide weight loss study when I was less than 10 pounds away from my husband’s weight at the time he died, and I’m back down to that size 4 again!
Shaking the box: Yes, I have gone into my room and picked up the box containing Grubby’s cremains and I have shaken it, while cussing at it and calling him everything but a child of God, before putting it down again, and calling it a “jackass” while still telling him that I love him… usually something like this, “You’re a jackass, what you did was a jackass move, but you’re my jackass, and I still love you, jackass!” It costs nothing and hurts no one, and I know he can take it!
Traveling: I travel constantly, and yes, I know that it is escapism at its finest… or at least that’s how it started. Now, it is essential to either be with my family or to be with the sea, and it’s helped me to realize that I really don’t want to live this far from the ocean again. I need the ocean to feel absolutely alive again, to know that I have no control over life, that what is, is exactly what it is supposed to be in any given moment, and that I can’t change whatever it is; I can only change my reaction to it. My financial advisors don’t love how much I spend on traveling, but this is non-negotiable for now.
Float therapy: This has been a game changer for me! It helps me with my emotional health, my mental health, and my physical health. The feeling of gently floating in peace and darkness, with only the gentle sound of quiet new age music, is indescribable. It gets to the point where I can no longer feel where the water begins and my skin ends. I am able to sleep undisturbed for an hour in complete darkness, and since no matter how tired I am, sleep is something that I can’t seem to master anymore, that hour of sleep is necessary to rejuvenate my mind, body, and spirit!
Shopping excessively: Did you know I needed a wreath for every season for the front door? Neither did I, but apparently, I do, along with the matching pillows for the bench. Or, how about every new Naked pallet that Urban Decay comes out with, even if I don’t wear them? Light-up globe boomerang balls? Light-up eyes for Abby’s car? A cymbal for my car (although in my defense, I do hold some pretty awesome car concerts!)? One of each color in a shirt or pair of jeans or shorts? Yep, me neither! Shopping as a whole isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but when you see the silliness of some of it, it’s easy to see where I was doing it to “feel better”. I liked the anticipation of getting a package in the mail, sometimes more than what’s in it. I liked the excitement that came when opening it. My bank account, however, has not been a fan. I’ve gotten better though, even as the unopened packages mock me from the entryway.
Scrolling on the phone: I am terrible about doing this, playing games, reading articles, searching on the web… and I’ve noticed that I’m a little better about not doing it when I am around others than I am when I’m alone. I spent so much time alone in the first two years after Grubby died that I played on the phone to stave off loneliness. Considering that I am ADD – Inattentive, this was downright perilous for me because once I get into a habit, I find it very difficult to stop it, particularly if I see no harm caused by it. Now, it isn’t impossible for me to put it down, but I don’t always like to.
Sharing our story: Our story needs to be shared. Grubby was a true hero, a cop’s cop, the cop we all wanted to be when we went to our first police academy whenever that was. He was the cop who was respected by peers and criminals alike, but not because he demanded it. Instead, he commanded it by treating everyone he came into contact with with respect, even the worst of the worst. He was a helper, a defender, and he had a legacy of service that I carry on by sharing our story. I’ve shared it in training sessions for Law Enforcement Officers and other first responders, as well as on several news shows. If one person hears anything I say that makes them think twice before doing something they can’t take back, it’s worth it… it’s worth all the pain I’ve had to endure. It keeps Grubby’s memory and his legacy alive… and that’s good enough for me.
Love this post bff ‹hug›