Time for a counselor...or maybe drugs?
It's been kind of an introspective day. So, let me begin by saying that before I wrote this post, I thought I'd go back and read a few of my more recent musings.
What a mess!!!
Of course, I wish I could take it all back and say that I'm not a mess, but after today, I think it's a fairly accurate assessment.
To start, the party was fine...good...there. No, really it was good, but I don't think I was very present. My friends really are wonderful. Several showed up to help me beforehand and a crew did all the cleanup for me. They really are an amazing group of fun, giving, selfless people. Interestingly enough, that's how I am so certain that I have gone completely insane.
I think my friends don't like me.
Oh, and I think I am dumb. And ugly. And a bad mom.
And, I have too much baggage for anyone to want to be with me.
This insecurity has happened periodically over the past 11 months. Sigh, 11 months? I can't really figure out what causes it. Could be stress. Could be timing. Could be lonliness. Heck, it could be PMS for all I know. Regardless, I hate it. In general, I don't have a lot of respect for people who aren't their own cheerleaders. By that I mean that whiny, insecure people aren't the most fun to be around. Not that I can't love them in a Christian "love your neighbor even if you don't like them sort of way", but I don't usually choose to hang out with them. And here I am being one of them.
I had lunch with a good friend last week who has experienced her own fair share of loss. She made a statement that caused me to get physically ill and visibly shaken. She said, "Grief changes your molecular structure. You are forever changed." I don't want to be different. I still want to be youthful and peppy and optimistic and confident. I want to be like I was when Dalton met me so that I can have again what I had with him. But I don't know if that is possible. Either one, really - being what I was or having what I had.
I really wish I had a happy post to publish. I want to be happy. I am trying. Trying really hard, but what I really want to do is not have to deal with any of it. Getting old and dealing with life just sucks.
Right this second, I am keenly aware of my need to find another counselor. That, or discover that Dalton is still here, that my best friend hasn't disappeared. Right this second, I really just want to curl up beside him and feel safe and loved.
posted by Tricia @ 6:08 PM
5 Comments:
Grief counseling and grief therapy are not for everyone and are not "cures" for the grieving process. Counseling and therapy are opportunities for those who seek support to help move from only coping to being transformed by the loss—to find a new "normal" in their lives and to know that after a loved one dies one does not remove that person from his or her life, but rather learns to develop a new relationship with the person now that he or she has died. In A Time to Grieve: Mediations for Healing after the Death of a Loved One (1994) the writer Carol Crandall states, "You don't heal from the loss of a loved one because time passes; you heal because of what you do with the time" (Staudacher 1994, p. 92).
Don't knock the drugs either...SSRIs did a world of good for me.
You haven't lost that person that you were.... it's just that that person has grown. And when the pain stops being so unbearable and all that you can focus on (even though I'm sure you are functioning fine and even smiling and laughing a little every day), you will get more of that back. It will be a wisened version.... but it's all still there even with the changes that have come with your husband's illness and death.
You have more good days ahead. That beautiful boy will assure you of that. But even though it seems an eternity, 11 months is really still just the beginning. The waves will stop being so big, and stop knocking you down every time eventually and 'new normal you' will find a way to grab life with both fists and have a wild, beautiful ride.
Just want you to know that this friend loves you.
Oh, and ugly, dumb, and bad mom might be the last three adjective that I would ever use to describe you.
Swear words are valuable words in society whose value is often overlooked. They provide a convenient alternative to outright violence. While I don't recommend the casual use of the F word, I do fully endorse using it intelligently. Modern society today is probably more stressed out than at any period in history, and eliminating one non-violent avenue to express discontent may be just the prescription for more chaos.
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