Is anyone else grieving like this?

Or does everyone have a husband and a death wish

A couple of weeks ago, I caused a minuscule internet controversy when I replied to an author and influencer’s post about her mother’s recent death.

She’d shared a video to one of her social media accounts saying that she “couldn’t have survived” the previous few weeks if she hadn’t been married.

I looked around, double checked there was nothing on my ring finger and no one hiding in my pantry, and responded that for someone who isn’t married, lives alone, and has no option but to survive regardless, messages like that are hard to hear.

The author and influencer responded kindly to my comment and a lot of people ‘liked’ it but a few hours later, her post was gone.

Score one for single women, or something.

I don’t think she intended to make me or anyone in a similar situation feel bad but I do think that’s a dangerous message to send, especially for someone who creates content about mental health.

It’s troubling because it suggests that only the minority of people who are in happy, healthy partnerships can make it through a major bereavement without falling apart.

And yes, there was a petty part of me that felt jealous that she’d found someone and I haven’t, that she had support that I didn’t, a part that spiralled into thinking about how no one had picked me to be their special person and it must be because I’m too [insert worst insecurities here] even though I’d deliberately de-prioritised the possibility of a romantic relationship for years.

There’s a desperation in early grief that makes you want to cling to anyone and everyone, and having someone who loves you close by at all times must be a huge help with everything from nightmarish administrative tasks¹ to getting out of bed in the morning (although I recently found a leg cramp to be motivating in the latter department).

As much as grief is not a competition and you can still feel lonely in a crowd, I know from having my dad to stay for ten days that it’s harder when there’s no one else around, especially if you’re unwilling to pretend Covid is over and so can’t meet an old friend for lunch or make new friends over a vodka and Coke or ten.

But we don’t all have a nearby parent, spouse, sibling or child to lean on.

And while there are probably lots of reasons to get married, doing so in the hope of one day having a built-in grief counsellor maybe isn’t the best.

Grieving alone is isolating beyond belief, a chasm of loneliness where connection used to be. But that doesn’t mean it’s not survivable. Plenty of bad stuff is survivable.

There isn’t anything inherently strong about those of us who muscle through this alone, we’re just doing the best with what we have. Trying to be kind, I’m sure, people have said stuff to me about both bereavement and disabling illness like, “You’re so brave, I don’t know how you do it”. I do it because I don’t have a choice.

Living without a live-in partner doesn’t make someone preternaturally courageous, we also find the pain unimaginable and are shocked that it’s possible to feel this terrible and still keep breathing.

Not only that, but you’re supposed to work and have conversations and pay bills and find a way to keep going and pretend that there’s any purpose to existence anymore, it’s incredible.

Having said that, if I’m honest, which I almost always am, as well as feeling jealous and resentful when I responded to the author and influencer’s post, I also felt a bit smug.

I’ve never walked down the aisle or said “yes” to the dress but I have survived over three months without my mum, something I never thought I could manage. And yes, it’s been hell, the worst time of my life, and every day is horrendous. But I’ve done it. Not totally alone, of course — I’ve often had long-distance support.

Still, I’ve been the one who has had to breathe in and out, day after day, despite my world falling apart. That first awful week, I didn’t know how to make it from one minute to the next. Every day, I’d think, “It must be nearly bedtime now,” and it would only be 1 PM.

I feel so grief-stricken so much of the time that it’s hard to believe I’ve moved on from then but the truth is, unbelievably, I have. A little bit.

I’ve had times when I’ve been able to sit and read a book. I even watched that Adam Brody/Kristen Bell TV show (the whole thing, in one not entirely hateful afternoon) and one and a half episodes of Taskmaster.

Losing someone you love so much is never going to be fun but I want people without husbands, wives or non-binary spouses to know that they can survive it, too. Disabled people can survive it, too.

Single people who are still taking Covid precautions because it’s a life-threatening vascular disease can survive it, too.

If you’re all of those things, I’d love to hear from you, because I increasingly feel like the only person in the centre of that particular Venn diagram. More than that, though, I’d like you to know that you’re not alone, even if it seems like it, because at least one other person is living through the exact same situation. (Wanna get married?)

1. If one more person expects me to chuckle at the neologism “sadmin”, I WILL SCREAM