Shell here:

If you have been following our blog for a while, you know that cancer stormed into our home; ravaged it; destroyed my husband; stole my husband; kicked our butts during the whole process; and then left one cold morning, and that was it. The cancer journey was done. If you’re new to our journey, welcome, and thank you for reading our blog!

Sometimes, as I reflect back, I miss the person I was before cancer tore our lives apart. Do you ever miss who you used to be? What I mean is that for me, I miss the energy I used to have. I was always a highly active person and constantly busy. I never slowed down until my body crashed and burned and said to me, “not today”.  Mind you, that was extremely far and few between. My parents used to always lecture me to stop burning my candle at both ends of the stick. I always thought they were weird. Why would you just sit around and watch life go by, when you could be a part of the busy life?

I loved being busy, going places and doing things. I always challenged myself to be so busy that I never let one-minute pass me by. I wanted to live my life to the fullest, even if it meant throwing in some silly busy stuff. I had the mindset of “never be caught just standing around”. I know this sounds crazy, but that is how I lived most of my life. I would pride myself on when I would have days of being at the mountains, stopping in LA and ending at the beach for the night.

One time, my daughter had a friend over and I was so over energetic that I demanded we do ALL the things in one day. We went to the mountains for breakfast and fed the ducks. We went to the movies at Downtown Disney, had dinner, and then spent the rest of the day at the beach. On our drive home, everyone was asleep, it was a good thing I was driving lol. My husband would always say to me, “my love, slow down. Stop and smell the roses sometimes.” But nope, that is not how I lived. He always took naps, and honestly, it used to really irritate me. How could he be wasting precious moments of our lives sleeping — that is what nighttime was for.

Do I miss the busy and the crazy mindset of go go go go? No. I miss the energy! Cancer roared in and not only stole my husband, it stole my energy and zest. I joined grief groups and would always ask about fatigue. Why was I always so tired? I asked my doctor non-stop and demanded blood work because something had to be seriously wrong with me; all I wanted to do was sleep! I was now taking the same naps that I resented my husband taking (just so you know, when he was sick with cancer, I never was upset with him for taking a nap, it was when he was healthy).

Every time, the labs came back the doctor would reassure me that I was fine. Then he would say this to me, “your blood work is fine, but you have to remember you are grieving and that takes a toll on the body. Plus, you lost your father, so you have double grief”. In my head I was saying, “shut up dude, grief can’t do this to a person”. I never spoke the words. I just sadly nodded my head, angry at myself for being what I considered weak. Yes, I felt weak not only in my body but in my head too. I felt as if I was not handling the grief the way I should be handling it–by living my life to the fullest. How dare I be tired! My husband died of cancer and he did not get to live his full life, do not waste yours. This is what I thought non-stop for almost two years.

Finally, one day after a few counseling sessions and a great grief group, I had my a-ha moment. I had my acceptance moment as well. Greif can and grief will come in and kick your butt to the curb. Grief not only hurts you emotionally, but it can wreak havoc on your body. Greif was kicking my butt. I had to find ways to accept this. I had to learn to take care of myself, and I most importantly had to learn to be kind to myself. I had to learn that it was okay to take a nap sometimes. It’s okay to cancel plans and stay home in my pajamas and hide from the world if I want to. Once I learned and accepted this, the grief and I learned how to co-exist together.

As I continued to evolve with my grief, deep down I sometimes miss my old energy to this day. It is like a long-lost friend who moved away, and I never heard from again. I do not know where that energy went, and sometimes, I feel as though I am grieving another loss. As we grief the loss of our loved ones, we are also grieving so many other aspects with it, such as the energy I lost. I am grieving the loss of my identity, my finances, my security, my friends, my family, what was and what will never be. It is never just the grief for that one person. It is so much more. As we slowly learn to accept this, we evolve into a new person who is learning how to co-exist with our grief. Grief becomes a part of life forever. It will never go away. Even though it is hard and it sucks, I always refer to grief now as, “my old friend grief; we have been through so much together”.

Funny thing is, I know now that burning the candle at both ends of the stick is not healthy. I have learned that the old me, even though I miss the energy, wears me out now. She does not fit into my new life. I had the mindset of living every moment like it is your last, but now I have seen what the last moment looks like. It is quick and over in seconds. Now I live my life with peace, serenity, and kindness to myself because yes, each moment counts, but it is okay to slowly enjoy them if you choose to!  I have learned to stop and smell the roses along the way. I think my husband would be proud. I have also learned that it is okay to take care of yourself and to be kind to yourself. Most importantly, I have learned that even though I no longer have the energy I used to have before cancer ruined our lives, I am grateful for the energy I have today and my new lease on life that I have embarked upon.

Remember, be kind to yourself and know you’re not alone on this journey. There is so much more to grief that just one thing. I think if we talk about it more and share our stories, we can help one another.

With that note, I am off to take a nap!

Jay here!

Grief really is no joke. I never used to be energetic like my mom; I’ve always been a little more mellow. I suppose I got that from my dad. I was the kid at school who would sit alone in a corner to think or read a book. I played sports and did theatre, but I just didn’t have that go-go-go energy my mom had. That day she discussed when we went to the mountains, Downtown Disney and the beach with my friend? By the end of the day, I was puking in the sand from car sickness and ended up taking a nap on the beach while my dad played checkers with my friend.

Even though I wasn’t hyperactive before my dad’s death, grief still came in and took my energy too. I’ve always been an introvert, but socializing (especially with kids my age) become much more mundane and tiresome. Even though teenagers are supposed to have a whole bunch of energy, since I’m one of the chosen ones with the horrors of grief, I have way less energy than some of my other teenage counterparts might. The idea of a party does not sound fun; it sounds tiring and like a late night. One time I was invited to a party and my mom joked, “Better be good or you’re going to the party as punishment” (and it was a joke because I’m such a good kid, she rarely ever, ever has to punish me).

While my body took the physical toll, my mind became restless. Questions about my life and all biological life in general started to pile up. Having watched my dad die, I felt I needed to make the most of my life. I thought that in order to do that, I needed to decide the direction of my entire life and start preparing immediately. Keep in mind, I was 12 when he died and 13 when I got truly serious about this. In school, every little test felt like it would make or break my future. If I couldn’t comprehend one thing, I thought I must have been an idiot, and I didn’t celebrate my A+’s because that’s all I expected of myself.

This hyperactive brain pushing me past my intellectual and physical limits wasn’t a great thing. I believe limits are made to be broken, but to an extent. You decide which limits are worth breaking, and then carefully and safely go about learning how to surpass them. What I was doing was destructive. You know on television when someone throws themselves at a door in an attempt to knock it down, but all they do is crumble to the ground in a pile of agony? Yeah, that’s a perfect metaphor for what I was doing.

I was so focused on the future, fueled by questions on life and death with a sprinkle of existential crisis, that I forgot about the moment. I didn’t give myself time to process everything. I was drained from my dad’s fifteen-month cancer journey and thirty-four days of hospice, and at the time, I refused to admit it even to myself. It seemed selfish. I didn’t see how it could have been draining for me: My dad was the sick one, and my mom was the one running around doing everything. She was the one so busy trying to do it all that she wasn’t even taking care of herself. I was just there to helplessly watch him suffer, make more work for my mom, and stay with friends or family as much as possible. Unlike them, I frequently escaped the situation, and when I was there, I wasn’t physically doing anything. For those reasons, I thought it couldn’t have negatively affected me that bad, not really.

So, I pushed myself after my dad died. Life was too short, I thought. I didn’t have time to grieve. I didn’t know that this very mindset was a part of grief itself.

It’s six years later now, and I finally learned how to tame the beasts in my brain. They bite back occasionally, but for the most part I’ve gained control. I’ve learned to accept that my dad’s grief journey did negatively affect me. My dad was barfing all throughout the night, I was doing schoolwork in the hospital (since I’d been pulled out of school and homeschooled years before, and this was honestly a blessing, as trying to get to school and school itself would have been a nightmare during this time). Still, my life did change during this time.

I never gave myself a chance to recover from that cancer journey before diving into this mental battle with myself. I had one year with my mom where we just learned to grapple with our new reality, and unfortunately, by the end of the year, I chose the wrong way to grapple with it. I jumped into this exhausting mindset without really regaining any energy back from the cancer journey.

When I finally started learning to deal with my destructive mindset, it was exhausting. I was already drained from the cancer journey and hospice, and exhausted from what I was doing to myself. Now I had to struggle to fix myself back up, work to maintain a healthier mindset, and develop healthier habits? It was good for me, but man, it was tiring! It was only about a year ago, give or take a few months, and I never knew just how much of my energy my dad’s ordeal took from me. Then I took more of my own energy when I was spiraling out of control. It’s a miracle I have any energy left at all now!

But really, I learned just how important rest is when it comes to this cancer journey. Part of putting myself back together again entailed learning how to sort through my feelings, and I learned those little jerks are tiring too! Crying is physically and emotionally draining. I learned we have to take care of ourselves after that too. Really, just living with the weight of grief is exhausting. We all carry around this extra burden on our shoulders. The ones we’ve lost, the things we’ve seen, the stupid things people have said in an attempt to fix the unfixable… It’s all tiring.

That’s why it’s so important to take care of ourselves. I didn’t understand this at first, but I do now. Just as our lives change after our loved ones die, we change too. We don’t necessarily become more fragile, but we do need to understand that we need more self-care. Everybody needs to take care of themselves, even before grief; grief just amplifies the need for it. It’s something that is too soon overlooked in this world. Grief just provides the strength of vulnerability and opportunity for us to learn about self-care.

So whatever your grief is, take care of yourself. If you were a caretaker, please take the transition to take care of yourself. If you experienced grief more like me, still take care of yourself. No matter what your grief is, it’s valid. It doesn’t matter what the circumstances were—if you’re grieving, you should cut yourself some slack and take care of yourself. Acknowledge your grief burden, whatever it may be. Take my cautionary tale to heart: ignoring grief only makes it worse and makes it more tiresome later on.

Jay and Shell’s Tips:

• Give yourself some time to rest after a good cry. Crying is physically and mentally exhausting, you deserve some rest afterwards!
• Acknowledge your grief burden.
• Accept that the old “you” may not fit into your new life with grief, and that’s okay. We learn to co-exist with grief and become new people in the process.
• Don’t force yourself to remain the same person you were before their death. Embrace the change; it’s the one good things we get from grief.
• Accept that grief takes energy and plan accordingly.
• Learn to take care of yourself as you grieve, whatever that means to you.
• Know that it is okay to take a nap or cancel plans on account of your grief; it is valid.
• Accept that you are also grieving for the old life you had with your loved one.

Aloha and gratitude,

Jay and Shell