5 Ways To Cope With Grief & Loss When Life Throws A Curveball

Grieving can happen even when someone hasn't died.

By María Tomás-Keegan — Written on Jul 13, 2020

Photo: getty

5 Ways To Cope With Grief & Loss When Life Throws A Curveball

Grief for an ambiguous loss starts slowly at first.

A diagnosis of degenerative disc disease, which was likely causing the pain radiating down his leg. Four surgeries later, with minimal relief, a regular regimen of injections, pain medications, and nerve blockers, his life steadily changed.

No more baseball or bowling. Gone are the days of lively senior softball tournaments. Our dancing shoes are gathering dust. And social activities are limited.

Why was this happening? And what the heck are all these emotional flare-ups? We discovered we are struggling with ambiguous loss — of the life we once loved.

What was an active lifestyle has turned into one of isolation.

Not only is the spinal problem to blame, but we are also living in the throws of COVID-19.

We’re not as young as we used to be, and my husband has a couple of other compromising conditions that keep us sequestered at home. So, we are coping with grief for the loss of many things — and they seem to be piling up.

Jim has been a non-stop athlete since he played little league baseball. Except for soccer, he’s played almost every team sport there is to play, plus golf — and he hurt himself in practically every one of them, too.

At the age of 42, Jim was still playing semi-pro football — and he has the knees to prove it. When he was 55, he got involved in tournament softball, traveling the Midwest and Southwest winning five world championships over the years.

In his mid-60s, Jim’s body began to show signs of wear.

First came the lower backaches, then shooting pains down his leg. After several scans, he received the diagnosis. He was losing the cushioning between his vertebrae — from head to waist, but significantly in his lower back. No wonder he was in so much pain.

Jim had his first two back surgeries in one year and returned to playing ball. After many conversations about whether that was a good idea or not, he was not ready to give up his favorite pastime.

Meanwhile, road trips are my thing. Whenever Jim had a tournament, I’d relish the opportunity to plan the itinerary for a family outing.

With the food prepared, bags packed, and the animals in the car, we’d take off for parts previously unknown.

We’d spend our days watching the teams play — all the wives together cheering them on. As evening rolled around, we would plan dinners with our friends, go dancing, sing karaoke, and often be there till the last call.

When we weren’t on a road trip, we were entertaining friends and family at our home. Jim was the life of the party. Barbecues, pool parties, and family reunions — the more, the merrier.

But things have dramatically changed since then.

It's been eight years now. The big house on an acre of land got to be too much, so we moved.

After the fourth surgery, the surgeon was recommending one more. Something told us it was time for another opinion. One of the premier spine institutes is in Phoenix, and we got to see the head of the department.

It was then we knew nothing would ever be the same.

When the surgeon told Jim that he would not recommend a fusion of his lower back because he had a 50 percent chance of feeling worse, Jim took his advice.

Jim spent the last four years managing his pain with injections, pain meds, and a spinal-cord implant to kill the nerve pain. He was a tall, strapping 6’3" "Marlboro Man" kinda guy, who is now 5’11" because all those discs have disintegrated.

He can’t stand for long or walk very far without excruciating pain. His most comfortable place is sitting on the couch or lying in bed.

So, life has changed. Now what?

The stages of ambiguous loss.

We’ve come to learn that the stages of ambiguous loss are not unlike the stages of grief — we can call it "ambiguous grief."

Elisabeth Kübler-Ross’s research suggests we experience denial or disbelief, anger, guilt, depression or sadness, and acceptance.

“I can’t believe this is how I’m going to live the rest of my life,” Jim said in disbelief the other day.

The anger comes out in both of us at different times, especially when we’re tired, bored, or both. Gratefully, we are tuned-in enough to each other that we catch ourselves quickly and apologize for the tirade.

I think Jim may feel a bit of guilt now and then, although I don’t think that’s a big one for either of us.

Sadness, for sure, is a prevailing wind that blows in our home. It is the emotion we struggle with the most. I wonder if it is the part that feels the most ambiguous.

If acceptance is the final stage, what I know for sure is Jim isn’t quite there yet. We’re working on it.

I, on the other hand, have chosen to accept the cards dealt and do my best to make them a royal flush.

To me, the loss of the life we loved often feels uncertain, confusing, unclear.

One thing I know for sure, though, is that it is what it is. That’s the state of acceptance I want us both to feel.

So, we’re testing things out, and these are some of the ideas that have worked so far.

Here are 5 ways to cope with grief when life throws a curve ball.

1. Host a "pity party."

Although this is not a party where we want to linger, throwing one for just the two of us sometimes allows the emotions to surface and release.

Acknowledging that this new life is not what we envisioned helps to get it out on the table. Then, we can talk about how to make the most of our new normal.

2. Find new solutions.

One of the things that bother Jim the most is when there is something that needs doing around the house that he used to do.

If I can do it myself, I do it before he gets up in the morning. That way, I’m not rubbing his face in it.

If I can’t do it, I talk with Jim to decide together who we can hire to help us do it the way we’d like it done. We compromise.

3. Talk the truth.

These are never comfortable conversations to have, but they are necessary.