Sorrow and Grief
Winston’s black dog of depression is hot on its heels.
“The only way is through.”
When we suffer a death or great sadness or depression it is common in our society to reach for the bottle. This can be a disastrous move and can lead in the long run to addiction for susceptible individuals such as I and in this post I am going to examine why and how we can better deal with grief, sorrow and loss in a more healthy and ultimately more beneficial way.
We are reminded constantly by our spiritual leaders such as the Buddha or Jesus that suffering is part of life and it is part of being alive.
On the night of my father’s death my mother, brother and I kept vigil at his bedside. I did not know then that my brother planned to kill him which he did at 4 o’clock in the morning, according to my mother.
I was only aware of a strange uncurrent and certain manic tone in their behaviour and this was not helped by the copious amounts of Gin and Tonic that they were drinking.
I admit I had some as I was not driving but not enough to be affected by it. They were knocking it back.
There were other weird things that I have recalled over the years: my father’s bedside locker had already been cleared. I know that to be the case because there were a number of things I had brought into the hospital during the three weeks I visited daily. When we left the hospital my mother told me we did not need to empty the locker as it was empty!
Clearly something was pre-meditated. Moreover, when my brother suddenly turned up at my house the evening of the night he died he insisted I go with him to the hospital immediately, saying:
“Our father is going to die tonight.”
In my exhaustion and incipient grief, I did not take any particular notice of these words until years later they came back to haunt me. Especially after my mother told me earlier this year that my brother had indeed ended my father’s life.
The nun who seemed to be my mother’s shadow in the whirlwind days that followed kept on muttering about “mercy killings”.
They kept sending me away from the cubicle. They both insisted that we leave the hospital immediately after my brother pronounced my father dead, and I was forced to leave post haste without thanking the nursing staff. This angered me as I got to know them quite well over the weeks I had been sitting by my father’s bed and felt most discourteous.
The point of these recollections is not for pity but to set the scene for what was to become a 21-year battle with alcoholism which I believe started that night.
I might add that my relations with my brother and mother have been extremely strained ever since and they have done everything they can to undermine my friendships and reputation in the meantime. They have made what should have been a private battle with addiction public and trashed my reputation. In some quarters they have been refuted, and I have new friends who support me despite knowing about the drinking.
This is cyclical and comes in waves. I managed a year sober last year and many sober weeks this year so much better than the earlier 20 years.
I am also now aware of the fact that I may be Bipolar as I have suffered periodically and cyclically from severe depressions to the extent of not only suicidal ideation but four attempts. Each resulting in resignation to the fact that I may be like the cat with nine lives.
Before you rush to inform anyone about this, I can assure you that having identified this Bipolar tendency which probably falls into the Cyclothymia camp, I have managed to get it under control with diet and effective targeted nutraceutical intervention. I shall reveal my own personal cocktail in another post but it does include B3 (niacin) as recommended by the great Canadian psychiatrist Abram Hoffer.
I am perfectly able to treat myself in this regard as I am a certified nutritionist and psychologist with further qualifications as an NLP Master Practitioner but it has taken serious application of these disciplines and a strict routine and lifestyle including an excellent diet to bring me into a better place.
I can tell you exactly why I fell into the trap of addiction which of course exacerbated or proved to be the epigenetic switch for Bipolar Depression Syndrome.
1. I did not process my father’s death properly preferring the bottom of the bottle to working through the grief.
2. I suffered significant physical abuse from my parents as a child, being beaten regularly from three onwards for behaviour that I did not understand was bad if it was that bad at all.
3. Ongoing from my mother (emotional and verbal).
I think this post is long enough, especially typed with a broken arm. But I here on Medium I feel that I can communicate. Love you all.
My daughter was only seven when my father died. She has hated me ever since.
Sabrina Vallis 2024 All Rights Reserved.
