Can't seem to get back on the bike

[hirakukibou]

It's been four months since my best friend/ex-husband/co-parent was senselessly murdered and the bicycle tour I was on came to an abrupt and tragic halt. Since then I haven't not been able to ride much. When I get on the bike I feel such overwhelming grief and pain and can't stop crying; I tend to avoid it. But I miss riding too. I have been trying to take short rides with sympathetic friends. This sort of works. Really, I am having a hard time doing much of anything productive.

Traumatic grief, I reminded by my psychopharmacologist, is its own thing -- different from the depression I have struggled with for the past thirteen years, different from the "normal" grief I am dealing with after my father's death in May.

I have gained weight. I am not in shape. It is all quite depressing. I am hoping maybe the advent of spring in a couple of months will help.

I am so not sure how to deal with this.

Thanks for hearing me out. I have never felt such profound and painful grief nor have I ever felt so estranged from my beloved bicycle.

Hoping to find the connection to cycling again. . . sooner rather than later would be good.

-- Hira

[Owlie]

(((Hikarukibou)))

Don't feel guilty about not riding. You've got other stuff that you need to process. The bike(s) will be there when you're ready.

That's about all I've got.

[thekarens]

I don't have any good advice, but I'd give you a hug if it were possible. Sounds like you already have a therapist and hopefully a grief counselor. Give yourself a break and be easy on yourself.

[hirakukibou]

Owlie and the karens, thanks for the hugs and kind words. I do have a therapist, a psychopharm, and a grief counselor. In fact, there is a Center for Homicide Bereavement in my community and I see the grief counselor from there. I have good friends who are supportive as well. Yet, it is hard for folks to understand (which is understandable) and there are times I definitely feel more like a Martian than usual. Thanks for the support. It means a lot.

[OakLeaf]

((((((Hira)))))) Baby steps. Sounds like you're taking them. Sometimes it doesn't feel like you're going forward at all, but you are. Take good care.

[Kiwi Stoker]

Maybe try something else physical for the time being? Maybe something social if you can tolerate it (dancing, gym classes, a walking group) just to keep up some form of exercise to make yourself feel well and keep fit.

Best wishes to you.

[AppleTree]

[QUOTE=hirakukibou;667560 Yet, it is hard for folks to understand (which is understandable) and there are times I definitely feel more like a Martian than usual. Thanks for the support. It means a lot.[/QUOTE]

Exactly this. No one could possibly understand what you've been going through...treat yourself with MUCH kindness... Many healing thoughts going your way hirakukibou. Your bike will still be there when you are ready to get back in the saddle.

[ny biker]

I can't really add anything except to offer my condolences.

Maybe you could consider taking walks as an alternative activity for now. It's easy -- no special equipment needed except comfortable clothes and good walking shoes, no prep time like cleaning a drive train or pumping up tires, and less affected by winter weather (for me at least). I find that a nice long walk can help me clear my mind and work through stress.

You will get better. I hope you start feeling that way soon.

[Jiffer]

Wow. I so feel for you.

Everyone deals with grief in different ways and at different lengths of time. The fact that this happened while you were on a bike tour makes the bike a major trigger.

Having some pain of my own with certain triggers that are difficult to deal with, I do find that over time they lessen. The more you have positive experiences in relation to those triggers, for you the bike, the better it gets as well. Not as quickly as I would have hoped, and I don't know if those triggers will ever at the very least not be a subtle reminder of my pain, much less make me cry . . . but that is my hope.

As for your bike, your story reminds me of a cyclist friend, who's husband tragically died on his bike. She wasn't there when it happened, but I wondered if it would cause her to stay off her bike for at least a while, if not forever. However, it was the exact opposite. I believe cycling became her motivating factor to keep living life. A distraction from her pain and something to plan and look forward to. It was and is sort of connection to her husband, who lived and breathed cycling, raced, had a zillion bikes and bike paraphernalia all over the house. He died doing what he loved and she continued doing an activity they had shared a love for together.

She pushed herself to ride harder, get faster and gave herself goals to accomplish, including races that she did very well at.

I don't know if any of this is any sort of help to you, but maybe it's possible for you to shift your mind from connecting your bike to the pain of the tragedy, to using it to "live again". which I know is what you really want to do. It wasn't clear by your post if your ex-husband was on the bike tour and/or also loved riding. If he did ride, or even if he didn't, think of how sad he'd be to know that you aren't riding anymore and how happy he'd be if you were living life to the fullest and doing something you used to love.

I encourage you to keep going on short and easy rides with friends if that's all you can bring yourself to do. Try to plan rides to places, like bakeries or coffee places that make the rides kind of special. If riding harder or faster makes you feel good about yourself, then do that. If you only want to cruise for ten miles, then do that. Take your bike to other locations to ride where the scenery is different and interesting. Do whatever you can to make more and more positive memories and associations with the bike.

Maybe look up organized events and try to psych yourself to get ready for one.

I know it can be very difficult to read others words of encouragement. Sometimes those words can seem so futile and have no meaningful effect whatsoever. I recently got an email from someone who said things my "old self" would easily have said to someone in my current place, yet I just couldn't wrap my mind around it and let it penetrate me or change my mindset. It just made me cry.

It takes time, but hopefully you'll slowly gain back your love of cycling again. One day at a time.

[Bike Writer]

I too missed this when it happened in the fall and am so sorry to hear about your tragic loss. It sounds like you are getting help but know that we are always here for you too, in a different way than MD's. No one says you have to bicycle right now but it sounds like there is some longing in your voice for it. As others have said, your bike will be there for you when you are ready. Sorrow can be painful to the body, not just your soul. Fresh air on mild days can be therapeutic.

The only real relief for this is the passage of time. And every passing day brings that time one day closer.

[hirakukibou]

Thanks again for all the support and wise advice. I hope to get out on a hike with Crankin sometime soon (after the blizzard that is). I went to an Imbolc celebration (it is a pagan holiday celebrating the new growth under the snow). I wrote a poem for it. I think it captures some of how I feel now -- as I try to give myself time to grieve.

Imbolc Poem
(This is dedicated to the spirit of my best-friend, ex-husband, and father of my daughter, Peter Marvit, who was senselessly murdered in Baltimore on September 17th, 2012.)

It took us three months
To ride our bicycles from Bedford, Massachusetts to Dayton, Washington State.
Three months from late June’s oppressive heat to
September’s changing leaves.
Three months on the road, with you encouraging us from afar, to go the distance
To push through, despite the obstacles of wind and fatigue,
Despite the doubt and frustration of such an arduous trip.
Your last text message said: “Sending you go-for-it vibes.”

It was two days before my birthday
When your life was taken
Two days before September 19th
Which you always reminded me was
“Talk like a pirate day” when you wished me
“Happy Birthday Matie”
But this year that wish did not come.
This year I was left with an emptiness
Like an echo
Or a lake that has iced over.


I want to howl like the wind,
I want to rattle the trees with my grief
I want to know that your death will not go unnoticed; or your life unacknowledged.
I want to make sense of something so incomprehensible.

Yet, there is comfort in the fact
that the wheel turns.
That tenacious green shoots
Push up through the snow covered ground,
Push up to eventually meet the sunlight
To a world that is kind and cruel
In the same moment.

It is Imbolc tonight
Which reminds us that from the darkness of the frozen ground
Growth will emerge
The ice will thaw
And spring will come.

Imbolc is a time for hope.
A time of dedication.




I dedicate to “movement” this year.
To moving through this time
Of exquisite pain.

Moving toward healing
Moving toward living
With full intention.

I dedicate to moving
In rhythm with the seasons
Moving, moving, moving
Yet. . .
Not
Forgetting.