Languages Of Loss
I recently finished reading Languages Of Loss: A psychotherapist's journey through grief by Sasha Bates - a book that is kind of doubly relevant to my interests. The reason I heard about it in the first place is because it's about the unexpected death of Sasha's husband Bill Cashmore, whom I was a big fan of, from Knightmare and all sorts of other things. I immediately felt awful for Sasha (and the rest of his family) when it happened, and I have thought about her periodically over the past four years, wondering how she was coping. Well, now there's a book about exactly that. But I also had a more general reason for wanting to read this, because loss is probably my ultimate nemesis. The grief and anguish of both past and future loss is the thing that has eaten away at me all my life, and not just my own grief but other people's as well, so it's very difficult to deal with sometimes, especially since not many people seem to understand or feel the same way. Any guidance this book could offer would therefore be welcome.
I made a few notes as I went along, so I think I'll just keep them in that order instead of trying to organise my thoughts. Grief is messy; my review may as well be messy too.
I already had a lump in my throat and was empathy-crying by the first page of the prologue, so I knew this was going to be a heavy read. And it often is, but it's also deeply relatable, warm, sometimes light-hearted... I'm amazed that she manages to be funny even while describing this horrific experience, but she does! She and Bill really are two of a kind, both wonderful writers. I recommend this book to absolutely everyone, because loss is unfortunately something we all have to go through, in one form or another.
I liked her description of "getting through" her bereavement, as opposed to "getting over it" which is a phrase that just needs to get in the bin forever. You never "get over" something that terrible (at least I don't, and clearly I'm not alone in that), nor should anyone expect you to. The most you can do is get used to the knowledge that it happened, and adjust to it as best you can. As I've said before, the passing of time does not make a tragedy any less tragic.
I never thought we would get to know the details of what actually happened to Bill. At first I didn't think we would even find out the cause of death, since he wasn't famous enough to make the news, and although his website subsequently provided some information (he suffered an aortic dissection which then caused a stroke), it was still hard to wrap my mind around it. How did this all unfold, exactly, and how did it affect them all? When you don't know, you're stuck in an endless loop of wondering, like when my friend died in 2011 and I never did find out the circumstances. In this case my questions have now been thoroughly answered - there's not much she *doesn't* go into. Sasha didn't have to share any of this with the outside world, but I'm grateful that she's chosen to do so, horrible and heartbreaking as the details are. The sadness remains but I won't now have the added element of "What on earth happened???" swirling around my head for years to come. It sounds like something that couldn't possibly have been foreseen or prevented and there's probably nothing that would have made any difference after it occurred, which at least makes it easier to accept. When his death was first announced I thought he might have been in a bike accident or something, which would have been so much harder to deal with due to all the "if only's".
The "Am I dreaming? Please let me be dreaming" part chilled me to the core, because I know I would be thinking exactly the same thing in that situation, and my dreams are so indistinguishable from reality that it really would be a cruel false hope.
It is so utterly awful that this happened to them. You might think it would at least have been quick, that such a thing would just make you black out straight away, but unfortunately that was not the case and there was a whole lot of pain and suffering and trauma. :( Thank god they were together pretty much the whole time, and it didn't happen while he was at work or commuting or something.
I know part of it was denial, but Sasha's initial certainty that Bill would be fine suggests that she is not a pessimist like me - I would have been the complete opposite in that situation, immediately fearing the worst. Knowing how things ultimately turned out, it's so painful to read about how hopeful she was at various moments, like when the surgery seemed to go well and they weren't yet aware of any complications. :(
I really related to Sasha feeling like their meeting and subsequent relationship was destiny, even though she struggles to believe in such things! Sometimes the way things happen is just spooky.
Interesting to read about the older limbic brain vs the more evolved neocortex (discussed in relation to the fight / flight / freeze response). I am often amazed by what my brain is capable of when my conscious thoughts occasionally shut up for a minute - from instant problem-solving to freaky telepathy - so maybe that is something to do with the limbic brain?
Cried my eyes out at some of the most heart-wrenching moments. :(
I was also interested to learn that people can be roughly divided into those who "feel but can't deal" and those who "deal but can't feel". I am 100% in the former category!
There are so many lovely little anecdotes about Bill - his habits and catchphrases and in-jokes they shared, painting such a vivid image of him as a person. What a wonderful way to immortalise him.
I loved the story about something hilarious that happened at his funeral - I'm so pleased that turned out to be a really positive experience for Sasha, when it could have been one of the very worst days.
She describes a whole series of incredibly weird coincidences following on from the funeral, which felt like they must be signs (letting her know that Bill is still here in spirit). I totally know what that's like - I might never have got into U2 if I didn't pay attention to those strange messages from the universe! Things happen sometimes that are so hard to explain away...
Ooh, discussion of dreams, one of my favourite subjects!
Ooh, discussion of us being made up of multiple "selves" (some public, some private). I relate to this so hard.
"What I am realising about grief is how hard it is to convey in words, even to oneself. This makes it hard to share with others, and even harder to write about. It feels impossible to label or describe. It's a visceral, whole body, whole life, whole attitude, non-verbalisable experience." She's so right about this. I find it to be true of negative feelings in general - the question "What's wrong?" can be practically impossible to answer, as I don't even know where to start, and anything I say would only be scratching the surface of it. What you want is someone who understands; who just says "I know" without needing you to find the words.
While on holiday, Sasha has an urge to just swim out to sea and never come back. I have thought about doing that many, many times, if life were ever to become hopeless enough. I wonder how common it is for people to consider it.
I was reminded of two different Alanis Morissette songs in the space of one page - 'Not As We' ("Everything had been ours, now it is mine. Everything was we, now it is I") and 'Out Is Through' ("There is no hiding from it, no shortcuts. Whatever I do or don't do - face the evidence, hide the evidence, run away from the evidence - grief always finds me. The only way through it is through it"). The former song could be the soundtrack to this book. :(
It is so deeply, painfully sad to read about all the small but cherished interactions she has lost, and to know that most of us will end up with similar stories to tell. And she is so eloquent, being able to put this stuff into words: "I empty the dishwasher and it dawns on me that I will always have to empty the dishwasher from now on. This was his job - I did the cooking, he did the clearing up, and now I have to do everything. And of course, the tears that sprout at this realisation are not about having to unload the dishwasher. They're about recognising that it is in these little, everyday moments that the bigger things are symbolised. It's about recognising my existential aloneness via all the concrete things that I will have to tackle alone from now on."
"For fourteen years I have told Bill every single thing that has happened to me - from voicing my deepest darkest fears and insecurities, to recounting the most trivial aspects of my day. [...] I am going through the biggest crisis of my life and I cannot tell him anything about it. He cannot show interest in the trivialities that were as much a part of the fabric of his life as mine, and he cannot reassure me about the big stuff." It's bad enough when I've wanted to share fandom excitement with friends who are no longer with us. Infinitely worse when it's someone close whom you're used to sharing everything with.
"Life now seems full of these tensions and competing and contradictory emotions." My whole life has been full of those! I'm always struggling with my desire for mutually exclusive things.
Sasha recommends A Grief Observed, which I have already read! I checked out the other two books she mentions but the Amazon reviews have put me off...
There's an exploration of the theory that the relationships we experience with our childhood caregivers cause us to form rules about how the world works and how to interact with other people, and how "the rules governing relationships tend to be unique to our own families, so misunderstandings with others can abound". No kidding! I embarrassed myself or had fallings-out with people so many times in my younger days because I said things I'd picked up at home and it went down really badly. :|
She discusses her endless, illogical search for control, hoping that if she performs certain actions it will somehow magically bring him back. This is all very similar to what it's like having OCD (and funnily enough she begins one paragraph with the phrase "I can't let go"). I understand this exhausting nonsense very well indeed.
She notes that "we so often blame ourselves when the fault clearly lies elsewhere" because a logical explanation and the chance of a solution is preferable to accepting that things are just unpredictable and worryingly out of our control. I think I've done that in other contexts, hoping in vain that it would make a difference. :/
"As one of nature's 'larks', throughout my whole life I've been used to waking early with a surge of excitement and energy about what the day might hold. I've always leapt out of bed eager and enthusiastic to get on with my day, starting with some sort of exercise or even just going out into the garden and pootling around there, feeling busy and useful." This is so completely alien to an owl like me!! I cannot even imagine feeling like that when I've just woken up, especially early in the morning. Maybe once in a blue moon if something really exciting is happening that day, but most of the time I'm just groggy and wishing I could sleep some more instead of having to face the waking world...
"I have lost feeling like the most special, the most important person in someone's life. No one else will ever be so intimately involved or care about me as much as Bill did. I'm not the centre of anyone's world. No one's life will be irrevocably changed without me in it. I am less important. I matter less. I realise how alone I am as never before." So deeply relatable... I've experienced a version of this over the years, as friends and family members have died, and other friendships have imploded or drifted away. People who once cared about me, were proud of me, enjoyed my company, confided in me... I've gone from having all that, to suspecting that no-one in the world would really notice or care if I disappeared forever. It's intensely painful if I let myself dwell on it for more than a few seconds. Feeling abandoned and rejected in fandom circles, where others can be so loved and celebrated, tends to exacerbate that pain.
How incredibly spooky that the last play Bill wrote before his death, which wasn't performed until a few months afterwards, was about a widow coping with her husband's unexpected death. 8/
"I want to look for any gems to be spotted among the rubble of my life and try to reframe the losses as valuable additions, ways to rebuild from the wreckage. I tell my friend Vicky about trying to focus on the positives. She comes up with a name for this concept - she calls it 'collateral beauty'." I love that phrase!
Sasha describes a Japanese art form in which broken pottery is repaired with a golden lacquer to highlight rather than disguise the damage, thus making something different and beautiful out of something that was shattered, without losing anything from the original pot. Wow, what a beautiful analogy.
"We all want things to be resolved, to be 'better now'. But most things in life are not resolvable." YES. That's exactly it - sometimes when I'm upset about something, people will try to offer help and solutions, but there *are* no solutions, and that's why I'm upset about it. Empathy is all we can offer and all I really want, most of the time.
I was crying again at the end when she quoted part of her perfectly-worded eulogy (in fact, I cried again several times during the final chapter). All of human emotion is here in this book. It would be better for everyone if it never had to be written, but given that we are where we are, its existence is a very positive thing indeed. It's *so* good to hear other people acknowledging that there is no end to grief, because there is no end to love, and it's OK and important to talk about this stuff. Just to know that someone out there really "gets it" is such a comfort.
And if you don't believe me, read the deservedly glowing reviews on Amazon before ordering a copy. ♥
I made a few notes as I went along, so I think I'll just keep them in that order instead of trying to organise my thoughts. Grief is messy; my review may as well be messy too.
I already had a lump in my throat and was empathy-crying by the first page of the prologue, so I knew this was going to be a heavy read. And it often is, but it's also deeply relatable, warm, sometimes light-hearted... I'm amazed that she manages to be funny even while describing this horrific experience, but she does! She and Bill really are two of a kind, both wonderful writers. I recommend this book to absolutely everyone, because loss is unfortunately something we all have to go through, in one form or another.
I liked her description of "getting through" her bereavement, as opposed to "getting over it" which is a phrase that just needs to get in the bin forever. You never "get over" something that terrible (at least I don't, and clearly I'm not alone in that), nor should anyone expect you to. The most you can do is get used to the knowledge that it happened, and adjust to it as best you can. As I've said before, the passing of time does not make a tragedy any less tragic.
I never thought we would get to know the details of what actually happened to Bill. At first I didn't think we would even find out the cause of death, since he wasn't famous enough to make the news, and although his website subsequently provided some information (he suffered an aortic dissection which then caused a stroke), it was still hard to wrap my mind around it. How did this all unfold, exactly, and how did it affect them all? When you don't know, you're stuck in an endless loop of wondering, like when my friend died in 2011 and I never did find out the circumstances. In this case my questions have now been thoroughly answered - there's not much she *doesn't* go into. Sasha didn't have to share any of this with the outside world, but I'm grateful that she's chosen to do so, horrible and heartbreaking as the details are. The sadness remains but I won't now have the added element of "What on earth happened???" swirling around my head for years to come. It sounds like something that couldn't possibly have been foreseen or prevented and there's probably nothing that would have made any difference after it occurred, which at least makes it easier to accept. When his death was first announced I thought he might have been in a bike accident or something, which would have been so much harder to deal with due to all the "if only's".
The "Am I dreaming? Please let me be dreaming" part chilled me to the core, because I know I would be thinking exactly the same thing in that situation, and my dreams are so indistinguishable from reality that it really would be a cruel false hope.
It is so utterly awful that this happened to them. You might think it would at least have been quick, that such a thing would just make you black out straight away, but unfortunately that was not the case and there was a whole lot of pain and suffering and trauma. :( Thank god they were together pretty much the whole time, and it didn't happen while he was at work or commuting or something.
I know part of it was denial, but Sasha's initial certainty that Bill would be fine suggests that she is not a pessimist like me - I would have been the complete opposite in that situation, immediately fearing the worst. Knowing how things ultimately turned out, it's so painful to read about how hopeful she was at various moments, like when the surgery seemed to go well and they weren't yet aware of any complications. :(
I really related to Sasha feeling like their meeting and subsequent relationship was destiny, even though she struggles to believe in such things! Sometimes the way things happen is just spooky.
Interesting to read about the older limbic brain vs the more evolved neocortex (discussed in relation to the fight / flight / freeze response). I am often amazed by what my brain is capable of when my conscious thoughts occasionally shut up for a minute - from instant problem-solving to freaky telepathy - so maybe that is something to do with the limbic brain?
Cried my eyes out at some of the most heart-wrenching moments. :(
I was also interested to learn that people can be roughly divided into those who "feel but can't deal" and those who "deal but can't feel". I am 100% in the former category!
There are so many lovely little anecdotes about Bill - his habits and catchphrases and in-jokes they shared, painting such a vivid image of him as a person. What a wonderful way to immortalise him.
I loved the story about something hilarious that happened at his funeral - I'm so pleased that turned out to be a really positive experience for Sasha, when it could have been one of the very worst days.
She describes a whole series of incredibly weird coincidences following on from the funeral, which felt like they must be signs (letting her know that Bill is still here in spirit). I totally know what that's like - I might never have got into U2 if I didn't pay attention to those strange messages from the universe! Things happen sometimes that are so hard to explain away...
Ooh, discussion of dreams, one of my favourite subjects!
Ooh, discussion of us being made up of multiple "selves" (some public, some private). I relate to this so hard.
"What I am realising about grief is how hard it is to convey in words, even to oneself. This makes it hard to share with others, and even harder to write about. It feels impossible to label or describe. It's a visceral, whole body, whole life, whole attitude, non-verbalisable experience." She's so right about this. I find it to be true of negative feelings in general - the question "What's wrong?" can be practically impossible to answer, as I don't even know where to start, and anything I say would only be scratching the surface of it. What you want is someone who understands; who just says "I know" without needing you to find the words.
While on holiday, Sasha has an urge to just swim out to sea and never come back. I have thought about doing that many, many times, if life were ever to become hopeless enough. I wonder how common it is for people to consider it.
I was reminded of two different Alanis Morissette songs in the space of one page - 'Not As We' ("Everything had been ours, now it is mine. Everything was we, now it is I") and 'Out Is Through' ("There is no hiding from it, no shortcuts. Whatever I do or don't do - face the evidence, hide the evidence, run away from the evidence - grief always finds me. The only way through it is through it"). The former song could be the soundtrack to this book. :(
It is so deeply, painfully sad to read about all the small but cherished interactions she has lost, and to know that most of us will end up with similar stories to tell. And she is so eloquent, being able to put this stuff into words: "I empty the dishwasher and it dawns on me that I will always have to empty the dishwasher from now on. This was his job - I did the cooking, he did the clearing up, and now I have to do everything. And of course, the tears that sprout at this realisation are not about having to unload the dishwasher. They're about recognising that it is in these little, everyday moments that the bigger things are symbolised. It's about recognising my existential aloneness via all the concrete things that I will have to tackle alone from now on."
"For fourteen years I have told Bill every single thing that has happened to me - from voicing my deepest darkest fears and insecurities, to recounting the most trivial aspects of my day. [...] I am going through the biggest crisis of my life and I cannot tell him anything about it. He cannot show interest in the trivialities that were as much a part of the fabric of his life as mine, and he cannot reassure me about the big stuff." It's bad enough when I've wanted to share fandom excitement with friends who are no longer with us. Infinitely worse when it's someone close whom you're used to sharing everything with.
"Life now seems full of these tensions and competing and contradictory emotions." My whole life has been full of those! I'm always struggling with my desire for mutually exclusive things.
Sasha recommends A Grief Observed, which I have already read! I checked out the other two books she mentions but the Amazon reviews have put me off...
There's an exploration of the theory that the relationships we experience with our childhood caregivers cause us to form rules about how the world works and how to interact with other people, and how "the rules governing relationships tend to be unique to our own families, so misunderstandings with others can abound". No kidding! I embarrassed myself or had fallings-out with people so many times in my younger days because I said things I'd picked up at home and it went down really badly. :|
She discusses her endless, illogical search for control, hoping that if she performs certain actions it will somehow magically bring him back. This is all very similar to what it's like having OCD (and funnily enough she begins one paragraph with the phrase "I can't let go"). I understand this exhausting nonsense very well indeed.
She notes that "we so often blame ourselves when the fault clearly lies elsewhere" because a logical explanation and the chance of a solution is preferable to accepting that things are just unpredictable and worryingly out of our control. I think I've done that in other contexts, hoping in vain that it would make a difference. :/
"As one of nature's 'larks', throughout my whole life I've been used to waking early with a surge of excitement and energy about what the day might hold. I've always leapt out of bed eager and enthusiastic to get on with my day, starting with some sort of exercise or even just going out into the garden and pootling around there, feeling busy and useful." This is so completely alien to an owl like me!! I cannot even imagine feeling like that when I've just woken up, especially early in the morning. Maybe once in a blue moon if something really exciting is happening that day, but most of the time I'm just groggy and wishing I could sleep some more instead of having to face the waking world...
"I have lost feeling like the most special, the most important person in someone's life. No one else will ever be so intimately involved or care about me as much as Bill did. I'm not the centre of anyone's world. No one's life will be irrevocably changed without me in it. I am less important. I matter less. I realise how alone I am as never before." So deeply relatable... I've experienced a version of this over the years, as friends and family members have died, and other friendships have imploded or drifted away. People who once cared about me, were proud of me, enjoyed my company, confided in me... I've gone from having all that, to suspecting that no-one in the world would really notice or care if I disappeared forever. It's intensely painful if I let myself dwell on it for more than a few seconds. Feeling abandoned and rejected in fandom circles, where others can be so loved and celebrated, tends to exacerbate that pain.
How incredibly spooky that the last play Bill wrote before his death, which wasn't performed until a few months afterwards, was about a widow coping with her husband's unexpected death. 8/
"I want to look for any gems to be spotted among the rubble of my life and try to reframe the losses as valuable additions, ways to rebuild from the wreckage. I tell my friend Vicky about trying to focus on the positives. She comes up with a name for this concept - she calls it 'collateral beauty'." I love that phrase!
Sasha describes a Japanese art form in which broken pottery is repaired with a golden lacquer to highlight rather than disguise the damage, thus making something different and beautiful out of something that was shattered, without losing anything from the original pot. Wow, what a beautiful analogy.
"We all want things to be resolved, to be 'better now'. But most things in life are not resolvable." YES. That's exactly it - sometimes when I'm upset about something, people will try to offer help and solutions, but there *are* no solutions, and that's why I'm upset about it. Empathy is all we can offer and all I really want, most of the time.
I was crying again at the end when she quoted part of her perfectly-worded eulogy (in fact, I cried again several times during the final chapter). All of human emotion is here in this book. It would be better for everyone if it never had to be written, but given that we are where we are, its existence is a very positive thing indeed. It's *so* good to hear other people acknowledging that there is no end to grief, because there is no end to love, and it's OK and important to talk about this stuff. Just to know that someone out there really "gets it" is such a comfort.
And if you don't believe me, read the deservedly glowing reviews on Amazon before ordering a copy. ♥