Lots of people have lots of advice on how to “move on” or how to “let go” of my trauma and grief. Therapy. Pills. Yoga. Meditation. Oils. Classes. Exercise. Breathing techniques. Getting pregnant (ya, crazy!). And the list goes on and on. Interestingly enough, all this advice comes from people who have no similar experiences to speak from. People who have been in similar situations listen, empathize, share experiences, validate, and rarely give advice.
I know these advice givers have good intentions, but often the well meaning advice is... hurtful or stirs up feelings of guilt (I know I should be thankful for my girls and I am BUT that doesn’t magically erase the pain either. I know that other people have had more losses and no living children. I know, but that doesn’t mean my feelings aren’t valid.) Even if the advice isn’t... accidentally hurtful... It often makes me feel even more alone and isolated, because it makes it clear that they don’t understand where I am emotionally. It feels like they want to give me a quick fix to get “back to normal” instead of taking the time to understand that I can’t go “back to normal”. Eventually, I know I will heal and I will move forward. Eventually, I will find my new normal. But right now, I am not there and that should be okay too.
I live in this strange place where I truly want to be happy and want to feel joy... but I also hold my grief and trauma as tightly as I want to hold my son. I hold the hurt, the pain, the ache, and the memories safely folded in my otherwise empty arms... arms that shouldn’t be empty... arms that should be holding a sleeping six month old baby... I know these things I hold in his place are as sharp as broken glass. I know they are hurting me.
On a logical level I understand that I need to make a shift in how I think and how I view my experiences. I know that clutching broken glass is only going to continue to cut me... and maybe if I listen to this advice or followed that suggestion I could learn to carry the broken glass in a way that it won’t cut me or maybe I could put it down entirely... but I am not in a place where I want to do that... as sick as they may sound...
Maybe it’s because the only memories I have with my baby boy are traumatic. If I let them go, what is left?
Maybe it’s because this pain is the only evidence that he was here and that he mattered.
Maybe it’s because the late nights, the crying, and the pleading with God for answers is the only way I know how to express my love for my son without him here.
Maybe it’s because I am afraid that if I removed the broken glass from my arms that I wouldn’t have enough left there to keep me upright and I would collapse in on myself.
Maybe it’s because not enough time has passed for me to have reached a place of healing or to have gained a better perspective.
Maybe time will heal me... eventually.
Maybe one of these nights God will send me the understanding or comfort I have asked for...
But right now it feels like the grief is my best friend. Maybe a toxic best friend, but a friend none the less.
So let me be sad when I am sad or angry when I am angry. Don’t minimize my feelings and my experiences by offering me a quick fix. Don’t give me a list of things to be grateful for or start any sentence with “At least...” like a simple change of perspective will make everything okay again. Just sit with me... or don’t... but please don’t judge me for not handling this the way you think I should.
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