Anhedonia as a feature of grief, burnout, or both?

    I had a bereavement very recently.  The months preceding the death were exhausting, involving lots of travel and days spent at the hospital bedside (as well as administrative work around a power of attorney, and significant disagreements with the other attorney over same).
    Rather than the grief I expected, I'm now experiencing anhedonia.  This post is -at least in part- to try to work out why.  Am I just burnt-out from the significant amounts of energy expended in recent months?  Or is this an unexpected presentation of grief?

    I cried a lot over the past 6 weeks or so while my relative was ill.  I felt guilty for not visiting more frequently (as I also have a caring responsibility for my spouse, so rather than staying locally I generally had to return home.  And the journey was a lengthy one, meaning I had only limited time to spend at the bedside.)
    I also had a significant amount of guilt over not being able to fulfil my relative's last wish, which was to return home.  I'd describe it as heartbreak, actually.  I did just about everything I could to try to facilitate it, but for a variety of reasons -all of them largely out of my control- they ultimately became too poorly to make the final journey.
    I could technically have done more, but I refrained because I knew it would mean hammering the final nail in the coffin lid which was the relationship with that other attorney.  (Something which has been hammered away, now, in any case.)

    The day we were notified of the death I cried upon hearing the news.  And the following morning a bit, after I woke up.  But I haven't really cried since (seven days have passed since the death at the time of writing [though not necessarily at the time of publishing]).
    So, does this mean I'd already done my grieving over the preceding 6 weeks, when I was mentally adjusting to the impending death?  Because, now, I'm -oddly- feeling a sense of relief, both that my relative is no longer suffering and -selfishly- that I'm now able to have some rest.

    Or could this mean that a part of me is in the denial phase of grief, where it doesn't seem real yet?
    For a couple of days my mind felt like there were 2 completely separate individuals: the one still persevering at home, before the disease progressed, and then the one who wasted away in the hospital bed.  I felt that sense of relief for the latter, but had a hard time comprehending that the former was also gone.  It felt as though I could still just pick up the phone or get on the bus and talk to them.  For a while, that is.  That seems to have passed, now.

    Is the anhedonia just a feature of burnout, because I'd been doing so much these past few months my mind and body just desperately want to take a break?  I don't know the answer to this, because the one thing I can usually reliably settle down to do -whenever- is to watch TV, but I can't even find a show I feel like watching lately.
    (The only thing I've been wanting to do is write blog posts, but I can't spend all day every day doing it, as I don't have enough to write about.  And also, I sometimes don't have the energy to be sat up with my laptop on my lap, and instead I need to lay on the sofa to rest.)
    I could almost understand it if there were some guilt attached to experiencing enjoyment following the death.  And there is some of that, particularly when I've found myself laughing out loud at something cute one of the cats has gotten up to or something.  But it's not overwhelming, so why would it be stopping me from pursuing activities I enjoy?  I've got to do something with my time, I can't just sleep all day (as a chronic insomniac that'd be a recipe for yet more night-time misery, anyway).

    Does this lead me to believe that this is more a product of burnout than it is of grief, at least right now?  I think that would probably figure, actually, because I'm genuinely exhausted.
    I will admit I am isolating myself from people a bit right now, because these past months have been so overwhelmingly busy and I just feel like I want to consolidate my energy.  My phone still won't stop ringing.  So seeing people feels like too much.

    Does this, then, mean I've got the majority of the other stages of grief still to come?  I know I'll cry at the funeral, because -if nothing else- my empathy will get triggered when any of the other close relatives becomes upset.  After that, I guess I'll just have to wait and see what happens.
    I've got the support of my spouse, and I'm therefore not feeling as though I need a whole lot of other people around me right now.  Perhaps I'll need them later at a later stage, though.

    This was rambly, and I don't really intend to proof read or re-draft this one, because it's more of an emotion processing post.  So it is what it is.

Cookies/data
European Union laws require that EU visitors be given information about cookies used and data collected on this blog.  Google/Blogger have added a notice on this blog to explain Google's use of certain Blogger and Google cookies, including use of Google Analytics and AdSense cookies, and other data collected by Google.  If this notice does not display and you are in the EU, please will you notify me in the comments section.  Many thanks.