09 Aug When grief makes you angry?

August 2022

“There is no grief like the grief that does not speak”

– Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The Bible tells us to be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to anger (James 1:19). Good advice of course!! I grew up trying to live by those principles – believing that anger was wrong!

Then my child died.

The loss of a child creates a tidal wave of unspeakable agony that completely devastates your world. You feel sad, empty and lost – like a boat without a rudder. You think you’re going crazy – you probably are! You become a shadow of your former self – hardly knowing who you are any more. With limited resources, you try to find the strength to pick up the broken pieces of your heart and keep living. But there’s always a huge chunk missing and…

“…you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it.”

⁃ J.K. ROWLING

(Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix)

All those emotions (and loads more) are inevitable but I didn’t expect this extra conundrum – anger. It came out of nowhere. Prompted by a thought, a memory, a longing, a reminder, a photo, a song, a tv show, a casual throwaway comment (not even necessarily about Ben).

All random triggers…

that without warning have the power to activate a surge of irrational anger (rage) that suddenly erupts. I want to scream or throw something or bang my head on a walI. Any reminder (however vague) that my precious boy has gone forever, is simply more than I can bear.

I can’t breathe. My chest tightens. And I feel as though I’ve been kicked in the stomach.

Just to be clear- I’m not an angry person. I’ve always prided myself on having self control. I shy away from conflict and where possible try to diffuse volatile situations.

And I most definitely didn’t associate anger with grief.

That was before Ben died.

Thankfully this doesn’t happen every day. I’m not stomping around like a raging bull – it’s more subtle than that but when it rears it’s ugly head, I try to hide (usually in the bathroom or the car) because it isn’t pretty. Quite frankly I’m ashamed! It doesn’t sit comfortably with the person I want to be. Anger is destructive – like a poison that seeps through your veins. I think it must have snuck in slowly over the months/years since Ben left (it definitely wasn’t there at the start). I wonder if it could have quietly slipped into the gap left by tears.

I’m at a loss!

I’ve tried praying. I talked it through with my traumatic grief therapist and discussed it with my councillor (when I had them). I’ve got a few strategies up my sleeve but they’re obviously not working. And even more worryingly is the extra layer of anger (that is probably a consequence of the stressful agitated side-effects of grief) which means in general I have a shorter fuse. It’s a fight to keep under control.

It frightens me.

So I’m desperately trying to get to grips with this horrible problem that seems to be getting worse not better!!

Fortunately my anger isn’t directed at anyone in particular (although there are times when I have been angry with God).

I’m not angry with the medics who tried (but failed) to save Ben’s life. I know they did all they could.

I’m not angry with Ben for leaving us too soon. He’s probably having an awesome time in heaven!

I’m not angry with myself for being unable to save him – though that’s a difficult one because, as a mum, I would have done anything in my power to keep him alive. I would have died for him – just didn’t get the chance!!

And I’m not angry with those who assume I’m over it or those who think I should be! Unless they have lost a child they can’t possibly know that the excruciating pain in my heart hurts as much as ever. That I miss him more not less!

“Everyone can master a grief but he that has it!”

– William Shakespeare

(Shakespeare’s son Hamnet tragically died aged just 11)

So, (unlike some of the other mums I know) I don’t have anyone to blame. But…

⁃ I’m angry because it happened!

⁃ I’m angry that Ben’s not here and he should be!!

⁃ I’m angry because he loved life and had so much more living to do.

⁃ I’m angry when I see the pain in my children’s eyes and know I can’t do anything to help. Another reminder that our family is incomplete.

⁃ I’m angry because it gets more and more awkward to talk about him – and listening to friends happily talking about their living children hurts. I’m not angry with them and I don’t begrudge them one minute of pride and joy, I’m just angry that I don’t have anything new to say about my lovely boy.

⁃ I’m angry because it feels like people are starting to forget him.

⁃ I’m angry because people talk easily about our other children but leave Ben out! I understand how awkward it is – I’m just angry because it shouldn’t be like this.

⁃ I’m angry that we haven’t been able to take a family photograph in the almost four years since he died.

⁃ I’m angry because hearts shouldn’t just suddenly stop beating for no apparent reason.

⁃ I’m angry because I didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye.

⁃ I’m angry that my faith isn’t strong enough to deal with all this

⁃ And I’m angry because children simply shouldn’t die. It’s just so so wrong.

(I could go on and on…)

As always, writing this down is cathartic and has cleared my head a bit – but putting such messy thoughts into words is painful. A brutal reminder of how unfixable life without Ben is. That the life we once had is gone forever!!

‘I find,’ he says, ‘that I am constantly wondering where he is. Where he has gone. It is like a wheel ceaselessly turning at the back of my mind. Whatever I am doing, wherever I am, I am thinking: Where is he, where is he? He can’t have just vanished. He must be somewhere. All I have to do is find him. I look for him everywhere, in every street, in every crowd, in every audience. That’s what I am doing, when I look out at them all: I try to find him, or a version of him.’

– Maggie O’Farrell, Hamnet

She describes this so well – that’s just what it’s like!!

So could anger be simply borne out of a kind of manic frustration? Maybe the key is to just let it happen – but in a more controlled way. I’m not convinced that trying to suppress it is the answer. Yet in all honesty I’m not even sure how to do any of this! Just trying to understand is too much for my shattered weary brain.

I wonder if other grief parents feel the same. It’s not something we talk about – it’s probably too embarrassing; too intimate; too personal. Maybe anger is just nature’s way of trying to make sense of catastrophic loss. Maybe it’s simply my brain screaming ‘I’m not ok?’

So how can I manage this abnormal emotion that has become normal because of an abnormal situation??

I’ve done a lot of soul searching, researching, reading, highlighting, copy & pasting and unearthed volumes of helpful resources – I’ve picked out a few nuggets that I think might be worth sharing:

Marie Curie ‘Talkabout’ have written an article called ‘why we need to talk about anger in grief’.

Here’s a small extract…

“In life, we often get angry when we can’t control what’s happening to us. We have no control over death, and so it’s normal to feel anger. But it can be one of the most confusing feelings to experience at such a time.

People expect to feel sad, lonely or tearful. But feelings of anger can leave them feeling anxious and as though they’re somehow not ‘normal’.

Anger can be thought of as your brain trying to make sense of what’s happened. The death of your loved one often needs to be ‘accepted’ emotionally as well as logically, and this may involve recognising feelings of anger and then exploring and working through those feelings.”

⁃ https://www.mariecurie.org.uk

That makes sense!!

Elizabeth Kubler-Ross includes anger as one of the five elements of grief…

“Anger is a necessary stage of the healing process. Be willing to feel your anger, even thought it may seem endless. The more you truly feel it, the more it will begin to dissipate and the more you will heal.”

Elisabeth Kubler-Ross and David Kessler

I still struggle with the word healing as it implies I’m going to get better!! That feels like betrayal! I’d rather focus on incorporating pain into living so that I feel like I’m carrying Ben with me inside my brokenness.

And for those (like me) struggling with faith issues – I searched for something that would help me align anger with faith and found this interesting quote…

“I see now that my faith was becoming an ally rather than an enemy because I could vent anger freely, even toward God, without fearing retribution.”

⁃ Jerry Sittser (lost his daughter, wife and mother in a tragic car accident) Author of ‘A Grace Disguised’

I breathed a huge sigh of relief as for so long I have felt like a ‘phoney faith failure’. As a theologian as well as a grieving parent I’ll accept his verdict that anger is an acceptable emotion – that God understands and doesn’t judge!!

So I’m relieved to find that in this new abnormal world, anger is more normal than I realised yet there must be more healthy ways of expressing it…

The Loss Foundation writes…

Some strategies you can do to help with your anger include;

• Problem solve – be aware of the things that trigger or escalate your anger

• Ask for help – talk through how you are feeling with someone you trust

• Sit somewhere quiet and breathe deeply

• Write down your angry thoughts – this may be favourable for people who do not feel comfortable talking about their feelings

– thelossfoundation.org

And another very practical tip from Elizabeth Kubler-Ross…

“We usually know more about suppressing anger than feeling it. Tell a counselor how angry you are. Share it with friends and family. Scream into a pillow. Find ways to get it out without hurting yourself or someone else. Try walking, swimming, gardening—any type of exercise helps you externalize your anger. Do not bottle up anger inside. Instead, explore it. The anger is just another indication of the intensity of your love.”

Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, On Grief and Grieving: Finding the Meaning of Grief Through the Five Stages of Loss

Finally I read this quote…

“But if she let go of her anger, all that would remain was grief and pain. Anger was easier. Anger could be focused outward. Grief corroded from within”.

Author: Robin Hobb

Maybe that’s it – sometimes I get so tired of grief and pain my mind simply defaults to anger.

Maybe, I just have to accept that following the death of a child, life is just always going to be an endless spiral of unexpected unpredictable emotions – anger being one of them.

⁃ author unknown

Over the last (almost) four years I’ve learnt more about grief than I ever wanted to know and I’m reminded over and over again that grief is simply love. I’ll never stop loving my darling boy so I guess I’ll never stop grieving.

But I get disillusioned that it’s often one step forward and two back, then round and round in circles. It’s definitely not a linear path and often seems impossible. Yet already I can look back and see how far I’ve come! I must be on the winning side – though I’m not really sure of what??

Despite all the pain and heartache, I am blessed to have a mountain of joy in my life. So I hold onto the hope that every day just takes me one step closer to heaven – where I’ll find my darling Ben.

Maybe one day I’ll see grief as a companion rather than an enemy. But for now I’ll simply settle for any droplets of comfort that I draw from my incredibly awesome family and friends, my weak and wobbly faith and a God who I believe loves me unconditionally – warts and all. A God who sees me in the bathroom and the car – when I’m at my absolute worst. A God who I believe genuinely cares and feels my pain.

The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. – Psalm 34:18

I’ve heard it said that the most beautiful views are found after the hardest climbs.

This survival journey seems endless and so unbearably hard – but I’ll keep climbing.

For Ben 💛

Credit: Ruth McDonald