Now they want to label us and medicate our grief away

I reposted a link to an an article last night about a diagnostic category the new DSM (the psychiatric bible) is now pushing - "excessive grief". Psychiatrists have been floating a diagnosis of “complicated grief” around for a while, claiming anyone still mourning after six months had something wrong with them. But they did not have the sanction of the DSM and pharmaceutical companies and thus could not charge for it. Now they can. I’m not surprised by this but I’m deeply disappointed and frankly angry. Anyone who knows me knows I have been passionate since John's death to help those who are grieving and to make grief better understood. This new made up category is going to do a great disservice to many people by labeling and medicating a normal human part of life. 

I’m not talking about deep depression or suicidal ideation or someone who becomes dysfunctional. That’s different and should be addressed and treated no matter the cause. And it has always been addressed. We don't need a new diagnosis to recognize and treat that kind of condition.

But to say anyone grieving after six months which was how they defined complicated grief before this new DSM is absurd. Calling someone excessively grieving based on some made up criteria is highly subjective and downright dangerous. The article quotes the term "not moving on" as part of the diagnosis. Again, something I have worked hard to get people to stop using. We don't "move on". To move on means we are putting our loved one in the past. Anyone who has lost someone they love knows we don't do that. We move forward. We are not denying the death. That death has become part of who we are now. It always will be. Death changes us. We recognize that. Instead, we who are smarter than this DSM know we move forward, bringing our loved one and our new relationship with our loved one with us - in whatever way that means for us. Everyone is different. Every grief is different. I can't emphasize that enough.

I remember doctors pushing pills on me the first year after John died. When I would see a doctor for anything they would always ask how I was doing in general and if I talked about losing John I would get tearful. Like clockwork, they would write a prescription for antidepressants and give me samples. I would go home and throw the prescription away and put the samples in a drawer. After a while I had quite the collection. 

Grief is an emotion, a normal response to loss. And it varies in degree from person to person, from loss to loss. There are no hard and fast rules. To now make rules is absurd. 

Grief is not a mental disorder. Shame on them. This frustrates me and I fear this will set things back so much. They and Big Pharma are trying to teach us that anything can be fixed with just a pill. Grief denied/medicated is grief prolonged and growth stunted. But grief diagnosed is an avenue for big money.

It’s been almost 12 years for me since John died and I still miss him. I will never feel whole again. Some days when a wave hits me, I cry. And that’s ok. There are some things I no longer do and that’s my choice and that’s ok too. No, I don’t wear black as the article references (how old was that writer - I don’t know anyone who wears mourning black, maybe that's a cultural thing, not a diagnosis) but I do still wear my wedding ring. I dare any of those doctors to tell me I am mentally ill. I have a few choice words for them if they try. 

But this hurts my heart. How many people will they harm now? 

Namaste.

Happy anniversary, Sweetheart!

34 years ago John and I remarried in the Church. We had eloped 7 years earlier.

It was a wonderful day! ♥

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

John and I had our first date today in 1978 - 44 years ago!

What a wonderful life it has been!

I think I was in love with him from that very first day - maybe even before. ♥

Happy First Date Day, Sweetheart!

Happy Bunkie Day!

42 years ago today John and I moved in together.

Ever after that, John called this day Bunkie Day and we celebrated it every year.

Our first Bunkie Day, John made us lasagna and we went out with friends afterwards to celebrate.

Happy Bunkie Day, Sweetheart! ♥

 

Happy Valentine's Day, Sweetheart!

 

I miss you so much, John.

♥

Making a me John will be proud of

 

John was always my biggest supporter, my loudest cheerleader.

No matter what venture I decided to get myself into - and there were some weird ones over the years - he was there in my corner, encouraging me and telling me I could do anything I set my mind to.

Often, he was right. Whether it was selling crafts or entering nursing administration or writing books or starting my own legal nurse consulting business, John was there for me. He was my rock. When I needed courage and confidence and lacked my own, he gave me his. He bragged about me to his friends. He said I made him proud. He never discouraged me. I always heard "Go for it! You can do this! I believe in you. I love you."

I have struggled since his passing. Grief steals so much from you. But gradually, over the years as I have started to heal, I have felt the stirrings of self-worth return. I truly believe a lot of that is coming from John. As I try new things I still hear him in my heart saying "Go for it! You can do this! I believe in you. I love you."

Because I am now retired, I have had the time to put my energy into more creative ventures. And I have found I seem to have a knack for some things. It started with writing. I had already published two books before John died, and after he passed I wasn't sure I could write another word. But slowly things changed and as some of the heaviness of sorrow lifted, I wrote and published two more books and I have another one in the works. 

But then a funny thing happened. My creativity went in a direction I never expected it to. A few years ago I decided to try photography and not only enjoyed it but got compliments on my work.

And then the expression bug hit again last year and I decided to try my hand at painting. Watercolor to be specific. And again, I am receiving compliments and encouragement to keep at it.

My heart doesn't feel so sad when I am being creative. For a little while, it takes me out of my head and I feel a sense of peace. I like to believe John is still looking over my shoulder and smiling and still saying "Go for it! You can do this! I believe in you. I love you."

I want to continue to be someone he can be proud of.

Namaste.

I never tire of John's Hello's

The other day I was wrestling with a problem.

As I often do, I talked to John about it in my mind. This particular day I was out in the backyard with Bella. While she sniffed and enjoyed the yard, I continued to turn the problem over in my head, wondering what course to take. One outcome kept rolling around in my mind and I wondered if this was the answer. I took a few steps forward, looking down at the ground as I walked and then I saw it.

In fact, I was about to step on it. I could not believe my eyes.

There, right in front of me, was a beautiful Hello from John. A sign that he knew what was going on with me. A sign he was with me. A sign he was trying to use to show me what he thought of my choice.

Like just about every house out here in this part of Arizona, my property is covered in landscape gravel. It doesn't need watering in this desert area and always looks nice.  The gravel is made up of small irregularly shaped stones. 

But just in front of my right foot was this rock. It stood out from the rest because of its color and then its shape. I was not sure I was seeing what I thought I was seeing. But I picked it up and then I knew. It was exactly what I thought it was.

For me. 

From John.

Thank you, Sweetheart.

Message received.

I love you, too.

Namaste.