A reader writes: I wonder if I might turn out to become one of those complicated grief people. I have all the risk factors. I'm not usually a drinker or a drug taker -- I've been regularly using alcohol and Serax (oxazepam) since my husband died. The same thing happened after we got his diagnosis a year ago, but when we received some positive news that they might be able to beat the cancer or at least control it - I was able to cut out the oxazepam and reduce drinking to a glass of wine a day. Then he suddenly died - and we were completely unprepared. Even the doctors were surprised.
Now I've been taking up to 25 mg oxazepam a day, plus drinking from the afternoon until nearly bedtime. Yesterday I drank at 10 in the morning, which I have never done before. I feel it's definitely out of control, but if my pain is this bad WITH drugs and alcohol, imagine how it will be without anything to dull the pain. It will be torture.
Right now I feel like I'm drowning and am not sure I'll be able to cope. I have a grief counselor and a psychologist I can call, but otherwise little support. I'm on Lexapro - an antidepressant - which hasn't done a thing for me despite being on it for a year now. I'm terrified I'm not going to be able to take care of my 19-year old, let alone myself. I even forget to feed the dog. Luckily my son remembers.
For me - it's the guilt at not appreciating my husband more when he was alive. I was burned out from all the stress during his illness - caregiving and working full time. Now I can't work or give care to myself.
I'm so hurt too at the lack of compassion from my mother and siblings. It's when you face your worst crisis ever that you see how people really are. My sons are troopers but are of course hurting too - and I try to be strong and supportive for them when talking to them, but can't do the same for myself.
Sorry for rambling here, but I'm just not sure I can manage. I feel like other widows probably were so wonderful with their spouses - sitting at their bedside day and night if they were ill, or being 100% loving spouses up until they were suddenly killed. It wasn't like that for us, and I have severe guilt that just won't go away. It really does feel like drowning.
My Response: You say that you’re taking two anti-anxiety agents, “drinking from the early afternoon until bedtime,” and that you “feel that it’s definitely out of control.” That is about as honest as a person can be, and I respect and admire you deeply for being so honest ~ with yourself and with me.
So let me ask you this: Is your grief counselor aware of the extent to which you are mixing these powerful substances? What about the physician who is prescribing them for you? Given what you’ve shared, it is imperative that both your therapist and your physician know exactly what is going on ~ what you’re taking, how often, how much alcohol you’re consuming, and how ineffective all of this has been in helping you cope. Clearly, this combination is not working, and your health care providers need to know that.
The medications you are taking can be habit-forming and may lose their effectiveness over time as your body develops a tolerance. They can intensify the effects of alcohol and should not be combined with drinking. Both also carry side effects that can worsen the normal physical responses we experience in grief ~ disrupting sleep, appetite, energy, and emotional regulation. It is no wonder that you feel as awful as you do. Much of what you’re experiencing may be due to the daily chemical burden your body is carrying.
You also say that you are deeply hurt by the lack of compassion from your mother and siblings, and I am truly sorry that they are not coming through for you. But there is nothing you can do to change them right now. What is within your control ~ what you can do something about ~ is the compassion you show yourself.
Right now, the most important person in your universe is you. It is imperative that you begin taking better care of yourself. No one can do this for you, dear one ~ not even me, though I do feel deep concern and compassion for you. All I can do is urge you toward healthier, safer choices.
I hear you shouting that you are drowning, my friend. I am tossing you a life-saving inner tube, and I am hoping and praying with all my heart that you will reach for it and save yourself.
Your feedback is always welcome. Please feel free to leave a comment, ask a question, or share a resource of your own in the Comments section below. If you’d like updates delivered directly to your inbox, you’re also invited to subscribe to the weekly Grief Healing Newsletter. Sign up here.
- In Grief: After Caregiving Ends, Who Am I?
- Interview, Are We Medicating Normal Grief?
- Using Alcohol to Cope with Grief
- Using Antidepressants to Manage Acute, Normal Grief
- Voices of Experience: My Self-Care Basket for 2019
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