Our roles in life define us. Parent, spouse, student, employee, sibling, and offspring are some common examples. Our identify is shaped by these roles.
Before my husband's death, my defining roles were mother, wife and caregiver. With three young children and a terminally ill husband, these responsibilities took up the majority of my waking hours. When Greg died, that drastically changed. In the aftermath of this loss, I naturally felt lost and confused. Much of this was due to grieving his absence. But, as time passed, I realized that I was also grieving the loss of my roles of wife and caregiver. I was grieving the loss of my identity.
It may seem impossible to reinvent or rediscover ourselves at such a difficult time in our lives. The mother and father who lose a child, the son or daughter who loses a parent, the sibling who loses a brother or sister. All of us face a drastic change in the relationships and functions that make up our identity.
At first we feel off-balance and unsure of the direction we should take. There is a big hole in our being that needs to be filled. Many people experience depression and a general lack of interest or lethargy. This is natural and can allow us time for reflection before beginning the work of recovery.
I have observed other common "action" responses to the hole in our identity caused by the loss of our important roles. These include over-parenting, over-working, and substitution.
In my case, losing my husband and becoming the sole parent of our three kids, it was instinctual to try to be both mother and father to my children. And I could almost do it. Racing around, trying to make sure their lives didn't skip a beat. Of course, I fell short of succeeding and wore myself out physically and emotionally in the attempt. While it was important to give my grieving children extra time and attention, I was trying to fill the loss of my roles as wife and caregiver by over-parenting my kids. It wasn't beneficial to my children or to me as they needed to face the reality that their lives were also forever changed and I was neglecting my own emotional and psychological progress through the grief journey.
Throwing ourselves into our work is another response to this gap in our lives. Letting our professional identity become all-encompassing is a common panacea in our society to compensate for voids in our life. Like my over-parenting, over-working also prevents progress though grief and is not a satisfying long-term fix for the underlying problem.
Substitution is a reaction that may eventually work into a viable solution. Or it can be quite destructive. Within reason, expanding my parenting role to include some "fathering" functions was a healthy substitution. Returning to graduation school enabled me to add the role of student. Then, a few years later, I found immense satisfaction in working with other bereaved children and adults.
In the aftermath of the death her son, one mother volunteered to work with the teen group at her church. An elderly man who lost his invalid wife began working at the local senior center's lunch program. These are examples of more direct substitution, trading one nurturing and supportive role for another.
On the destructive side, if drugs, alcohol, or other destructive behavior becomes the substitute, we must seek professional help immediately. These habits prevent progress through our grief journey and are detrimental to ourselves, our family and our friends.
How ever we do it, redefining ourselves after the death of a loved one can only come with time, introspection, trial and error. The process may take years and we may sorely miss the old "me" for the rest of our lives. However, it is possible to find a comfortable, productive fit for each one of us. The growth that comes from our suffering can add a positive dimension to our inner self that was missing before our loss.
Before my husband's death, my defining roles were mother, wife and caregiver. With three young children and a terminally ill husband, these responsibilities took up the majority of my waking hours. When Greg died, that drastically changed. In the aftermath of this loss, I naturally felt lost and confused. Much of this was due to grieving his absence. But, as time passed, I realized that I was also grieving the loss of my roles of wife and caregiver. I was grieving the loss of my identity.
It may seem impossible to reinvent or rediscover ourselves at such a difficult time in our lives. The mother and father who lose a child, the son or daughter who loses a parent, the sibling who loses a brother or sister. All of us face a drastic change in the relationships and functions that make up our identity.
At first we feel off-balance and unsure of the direction we should take. There is a big hole in our being that needs to be filled. Many people experience depression and a general lack of interest or lethargy. This is natural and can allow us time for reflection before beginning the work of recovery.
I have observed other common "action" responses to the hole in our identity caused by the loss of our important roles. These include over-parenting, over-working, and substitution.
In my case, losing my husband and becoming the sole parent of our three kids, it was instinctual to try to be both mother and father to my children. And I could almost do it. Racing around, trying to make sure their lives didn't skip a beat. Of course, I fell short of succeeding and wore myself out physically and emotionally in the attempt. While it was important to give my grieving children extra time and attention, I was trying to fill the loss of my roles as wife and caregiver by over-parenting my kids. It wasn't beneficial to my children or to me as they needed to face the reality that their lives were also forever changed and I was neglecting my own emotional and psychological progress through the grief journey.
Throwing ourselves into our work is another response to this gap in our lives. Letting our professional identity become all-encompassing is a common panacea in our society to compensate for voids in our life. Like my over-parenting, over-working also prevents progress though grief and is not a satisfying long-term fix for the underlying problem.
Substitution is a reaction that may eventually work into a viable solution. Or it can be quite destructive. Within reason, expanding my parenting role to include some "fathering" functions was a healthy substitution. Returning to graduation school enabled me to add the role of student. Then, a few years later, I found immense satisfaction in working with other bereaved children and adults.
In the aftermath of the death her son, one mother volunteered to work with the teen group at her church. An elderly man who lost his invalid wife began working at the local senior center's lunch program. These are examples of more direct substitution, trading one nurturing and supportive role for another.
On the destructive side, if drugs, alcohol, or other destructive behavior becomes the substitute, we must seek professional help immediately. These habits prevent progress through our grief journey and are detrimental to ourselves, our family and our friends.
How ever we do it, redefining ourselves after the death of a loved one can only come with time, introspection, trial and error. The process may take years and we may sorely miss the old "me" for the rest of our lives. However, it is possible to find a comfortable, productive fit for each one of us. The growth that comes from our suffering can add a positive dimension to our inner self that was missing before our loss.
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