The Fifth Anniversary...

Has come and gone and I'm glad August is in the rear view mirror.  I spent a solid month dreading it because milestones are always hard.  Problem is it isn't just the "day" of the anniversary it is more like the entire month.  I start getting weepy and depressed as July marches toward the end of summer.  And I stay that way until after Labor Day.  But as I've  mentioned August is a month full of significant days so I guess that's reasonable.

This was a milestone I was dreading mostly because it "has" been five years and I am still where I am at FIVE DANG YEARS later!  That alone is depressing.  And in some ways --not all ways but some, I'm worse than I was say three years out.  That I don't understand.  But I'm going to use this five year mark as a goal. The end of this "continuing to get worse" phase.  I am going to get better.  I am.

Still waiting for that "Beauty From Ashes" to show up.  I do get a little discouraged when I read about all that others have gleaned from the journey through loss and grief --even catastrophic loss.  And when I see the beauty from ashes in other people's stories or when I see that God has restored things to others in the wake of their loss because I know that is not possible in my case.  I am not, at 66 years old going to get another son.  I will never have another opportunity to be that close to another baby in my life. My daughter in law is not miraculously going to be replaced by a better, newer model.  So what exactly could "restoration" even look like for me?

I want to be positive.  I really do.  I want to believe things will get better but I can't see beauty from ashes and I can't see anything being "restored" in my life.  Five solid years out I watch and wait expectantly and still the losses continue to pile up.

I'm trying to stay busy.  I am trying to make new friends and create a solid social life albeit the landscape has changed drastically. Seems now I gravitate to those that have had and therefore understand --catastrophic loss. I am still reading non-stop; still searching for that one story that has the positive, happy ending that can give me the secret formula to overcoming this pain and heartache and the magic potion that will help me learn to not just live through this but enjoy living again in spite of this and tell me what steps to take in order to mitigate the steady stream of collateral losses.

I'm trying to do things - things I used to enjoy - looking for a spark that might ignite even a small flame of interest in something again.  I'm making the effort - which is a step forward I know since it was a long time before I cared to even try.

It was a huge step for me to attempt yet again to see a counselor.  Since that first year when I called about twenty with not so much as a single response and the one I did manage to wrangle up could not handle this and decided to just help me deal with the scheduling issues surrounding my sister's care and how to work in "grieving from the tragic loss of three members of my family" between a three hour commute in heavy Atlanta traffic daily to go for 6 to 12 hours a day 5 -days a week in the bone marrow clinic, juggling visits to an endocrinologist, gastroenterologist, pulmonologist in between along with regular trips to the hospital radiology department, dermatologist and respiratory therapist offices for testing or treatments, keeping up with a conglomeration of 28 medications, making sure the house was as germ-free and bacteria-free as possible, planning and preparing meals according to specific guidelines and doing laundry for four people on top of a full time job that I was then having to do at night after everything else was taken care of.  Granted I needed help for that.  But sadly got no help for the elephant or rather Mastadon in the room.

I think I've had maybe as much as five sessions with her and I got a letter about two weeks ago saying she was resigning.  Resigning.

Was it something that I said?

The little unexpected changes of grief

Personality changes are among the weirdest of the changes that have taken place since “this”. 

When you hear that profound grief changes you – you don’t really have any idea of the full impact of that statement.  You think:  "Well, of course I know that it has changed my family.  There are so many empty chairs now, meaningless birthdays, hard holidays and bad anniversaries.”  And of course you see how it might change your roles in life; if you were a primary care-giver to one that had an extended illness, you suddenly find yourself without a purpose. Or perhaps your identity as someone’s wife has changed and you aren't sure who you define yourself as anymore or the daily routine of being someone’s mother leaves your days empty and quiet.   You may change where you physically reside because of the passing of a spouse requires that you move to something more manageable or less expensive.  Your responsibilities may change in that you now have to do things that someone else once handled for you.  These things are the things the books and the grief classes prepare you for.  These are common sense and while you may not think of them all at first –they are logical and natural expectations.

But no one prepares you for the changes to your actual personality. 

Like the way you suddenly relate to all of your personal relationships:  The sudden and unexpected intolerance for certain types of people in your life; or the exact opposite –the sudden uncontrollable clinginess you have towards certain others? 

Before - I wanted people in my life.  Any people. All people.  No matter that they were not particularly "good" friends to me.  I kept friends that weren't always honest with me; friends that had ulterior motives; friends that were insincere and self-absorbed. It is not like I was blind before and could not see who they really were – I knew.  I always knew.  I just didn't care.  I allowed them into my life and even at times, struggled to keep them there.   Perhaps my “co-dependent “ tendencies made me cling to even toxic relationships – because they were better than no relationships.  I needed “friends” however loosely one might define that term.  

After - it is not that I no longer need people in my life but I find am choosing quality over quantity. 

It seems that after, I am seeing things much clearer. I can no longer close my eyes to things I once could and a relationship regardless of the quality of that relationship just does not fly anymore.  Maybe it's because I have now experienced the worst of the worst and realize that being without a lot of people in your life really does not kill you.  Losing those people that really matter in your life -- that is what kills you.  

I have learned the difference between real true pain and isolation and the imagined pain and isolation I feared would come from being without a lot of people in my life.  

I also see that life is short and that the quality of people I was spending the precious few days of my life on was taking away from the relationships that mattered.  

When you have been through something like the loss of a child, two children – three; your need for loving, quality relationships is so intense that things very quickly become black and white. 

Toxic relationships are all-consuming emotional vacuums; they are time consuming, resource consuming and downright painful at times.  Perhaps when you have been through something as horrific as this – you simply cannot take anymore pain and you just have to eliminate it where you can. 

Perhaps it is just an application of the Serenity Prayer:  God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.