Buried grief
It would take time to recover after my mental health took a tumble
Selecting the present from under the tree, I placed it on my gran’s lap. ‘Merry Christmas!’ I smiled.
It was December 2006 and, for the first time, making Christmas special was down to me.
Up until now, Christmas and birthdays had been my mum Christine’s job.
She was the glue of our family.
Provided constant care for my elderly grandma and great-aunt.
And was a best friend and stellar mum to me.
But in April 2006, Mum was diagnosed with spinal and breast cancer.
I rushed home from travelling in Australia, yet she quickly deteriorated and the St Elizabeth Hospice team stepped in to take care of her at home.
After just three weeks, Mum died.
There was no time to process my grief.
At 25, I had to abandon my travel plans and dreams of moving away to fill the void Mum had left.
I spent the next 12 years caring for my elderly relatives, who lived nearby.
Preparing meals, checking medication and food shopping for them alongside working full time as a fundraising manager for a charity.
In 2013, I married Anthony, then 40, and soon had twins Georgia and Holly.
And though I doted on my girls, I found it incredibly difficult being a mum without having one myself.
‘You’re working too hard,’ Anthony would say.
But there was no alternative, my relatives didn’t have anyone else.
In November 2018, my great-aunt passed away, followed by my grandmother in August 2019. Devastating.
With no more caring to do, my days felt empty.
I felt increasingly sad and lost all enjoyment in life. Didn’t want to socialise, exercise, even get out of bed. It all felt pointless. Then, in 2018, while at playschool with the twins, then 4, I confided in my friend Hanna.
‘You’re grieving, Alison,’ she soothed.
It was one thing that’d never occurred to me before.
Hanna referred me to the St Elizabeth Hospice emotional wellbeing team and I started having bereavement therapy
At first, I was terrified of exposing emotions I’d hidden for over a decade.
But I realised my sadness stemmed from never taking time to understand my grief for Mum.
Some weeks, I laughed, recounting memories of my grandma and great-aunt.
Others, I cried as I talked through my anger over Mum’s quick death.
The sessions became a safe space to express my feelings and pain.
As the months passed, I felt an improvement in my wellbeing.
My mood was lifting. I wanted to exercise, go out with friends.
And I know I can call on the services whenever I need to in the future.
I’ve now learnt how to deal with my grief.
How to be present in the moment and look forward to the future with my own family.
There is no time scale for overcoming loss. It can only happen when you’re ready.
I owe a lot to the bereavement services at St Elizabeth Hospice.
They gave me the chance to be happy again.
Now I’m present in the moment, look forward to the future