After Mother's Day... “Losing My Mind, or Minding My Loss?”

       “Losing My Mind, or Minding My Loss?”

One of my sons sat before me a few days ago (only days after Mother's Day), questioning, in essence, if I am losing my mind…??? 

I sat there, amazed at his impudence, but also amazed at my somber, sober reaction. Internally, I immediately felt, “Of course not!” (After all, I am a therapist who hears people’s hurts, and by necessity, I must be able to remember those vivid details of a person’s life who has risked sharing his or her very deep-seated horrors.) So I wasn’t much moved by his audacious question. I immediately said that if I had not remembered some things he had told me, it was more likely that I was feeling traumatized at the time and just couldn’t take in more information. He was not easily persuaded of this truth.

What is it that Trauma does to us? It can be downright horrific, and for me, especially around this Mother’s Day holiday, I am indeed traumatized by my loss of my precious daughter; to me there is absolutely nothing strange about my reactions to such loss. And when I am dealing with that deep degree of pain, I very likely will not be up to “taking in” everyday chitchat. And, for me, that is Okay.

Tommy and I have found it crucial that we process our ongoing loss; it is more painful than anything this world could throw in our path. Our loss of our child is absolutely the most devastating loss anyone could ever suffer, and the pain does not cease and desist just because time passes. This all-pervasive-loss occurs and re-occurs in our hearts and psyches, often when we very least expect it. Our loss must be allowed to process through whether we are “ready” or not, and it can feel downright horrific as we walk through it. 

But walking through such hurt can also be very healing. We are drawn closer to our child, and closer to our own broken hearts ~ all of which is crucial for our own healing, and for our own connecting with the precious child we lost. May our surviving family members accept our brokenness as part and parcel of the Love we must be allowed to continually pour out, not only for our precious living children, but also for the precious child we lost!

In His Love,

Angie

Wednesday's Woe - War Between the States: When Words’ Effect Berates…

Wednesday's Woe

War Between the States:

When Words’ Effect Berates…

The Importance of Not Comparing a

Death of Order (such as Child Losing a Mother), 

complicated though that may be, with a 

Death Out of Order (Mother Losing a Child)

War Between the States

Your state: Denial— 

My state: Under Fire

For still loving my dead child.

Clueless to my pain,

Doing what you do—

I cannot be around you.

Simply loving you—

I reach out to care,

But you stab me with a spear!

Blind to Child-Loss pain:

My heart you disdain—

(Its vulner’bility scares…)

Then words start to fly:

War declared ‘tween you and me

Slaughtering my heart…

Love must rear its head:

Declare— Our fellowship, “Dead!”

Camellias blooming blood red…

Moral of Story:

(No more words impart

To further grieve th’ mother’s heart!!!)

Interesting Note, the Japanese word for Red Camellia, Tsubaki, or 椿, has the meaning, 

“In Love, Perishing with grace”! 

So Apropos!

~~~

Having just read the book _life after the death of my son: what i’m learning_ written by grieving father Dennis Apple, I was inspired to turn again to poetry, using both sides of my brain to try to capture the essence of what just had transpired between me and a family-of-origin member whose words were extremely hurtful to me.* 

Dennis Apple, on page 163 of his book, so aptly says the following words in regard to writing a haiku about some of our Death-of-Child experience: {Uncannily, it also describes the essence of my attempted conversation with the family member who was pushing me to move on, and stay away from (what he deemed as) “unnecessary” pain, and “unbeneficial” pain.)

“There are many who would think this exercise morbid. If you feel it would be helpful to you, do not let their feelings about it discourage you.”

Amen, brother. Amen!

Regarding the writing of the above haiku, I make the following notes to some of the exceptions taken to the typical haiku poem originated by the Japanese:

*Inspired by Dennis and Buelah Apple, I am using the “Haiku” style poem, although I am varying lines of 5- and 7-syllables in an attempt to describe some aspects of my grief (leaving out as Dennis and his wife often did, the usual haiku ingredient of using a seasonal word in at least one of the triplet lines (although I did use a seasonal phrase in my final triplet), as well as my own choosing to leave out the traditional format of the 7-syllable line being the middle line of the triplets. I also use some rhyming which a typical haiku rarely does).

Camellia notations and picture from

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hanakotoba

(found at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hanakotoba )

Thursday's Therapy - TRAUMA Therapy Toolbox - Understanding Community Reaction to Trauma or, Dropped

Thursday's Therapy

TRAUMA Therapy Toolbox

Understanding Community Reaction to Trauma

or

Dropped

~

Causes for Some of Our Child-Loss Grief Complications...

I awakened sad this morning. Thinking about a family member and the disharmony between us. I don't understand. I am so hurt. She doesn't understand either. And she is so hurt. I've lost my baby girl. This family member and I had always been so close ~ in heart anyway, both of us tenderhearted, both of us having children and hubbies and all. But not now. Grief has separated us. She doesn't understand me, and she can't "get it." She doesn't "do" emotions. If we have a disagreement, she can't talk about it. How do you have any depth with a person when you can't work through the differences?

I've been praying about it because I feel consumed by it. Today I feel like God has given me some HUGE hints. Clues He's left lying around. Some I had guessed at before, but I never really knew the depth of their implications. Now, I'm getting a glimpse...

Most children are amazingly resilient as long as they have a caregiver who's emotionally & physically available.

~van der Kolk

My mother and daddy were always there for me. And when my mother was busy in taking care of Daddy and all six of us kids, this family member was available and nurturing. She would teach me some of the major things I needed to learn in my childhood developmental stages. I write just like she does because she taught me to write. To this day I love my penmanship because it reminds me of hers. Neat, but feminine and flowing.

Emotional attachment is probably the primary protection against feelings of helplessness & meaninglessness; it is essential for biological survival in children, and without it, existential meaning is unthinkable in adults.

~van der Kolk

At a time when I need this other family member the most, she is absent? I couldn't understand.

Well, I do and I don't. How can you even begin to climb into another's pain over the loss of her daughter when you still have your own daughter with you? It's too painful for her to imagine.

And yet, not visiting my pain, she forgets I have it, and then she gets mad because I insist I do. She gets mad when I don't come "home" when she thinks I should.( ("Home" is 4 1/2 to 5 hours away, and I am barely functioning?!)

She doesn't try to "get it," and that hurts me.

Mature people also rely on their families, colleages, & friends to provide such a protective membrane (against trauma).

When people's own resources are depleted, outside help needs to be mobilized to compensate for their helplessness.

During acute trauma, the social environment tends to respond with generosity...(with) social and religious structures that are geared to helping acutely distressed people until they can resume looking after themselves.

External validation about the reality of a traumatic experience in a safe and supportive context is a vital aspect of preventing and treating posttraumatic stress. However, the creation of such a context for recovery can become very complicated when the psychological needs of victims and the needs of their social network conflict.

When victims' helplessness persists... the trauma is unlikely to result in the mobilization of external resources.

~van der Kolk

My father was gone before Merry Katherine was killed. He had died two years earlier. My mother (who had also experienced child-loss) was available, but her dementia was making her mind come and go, and yet she could climb into my grief from time to time, and when she did she was incredibly sweet and nurturing.

But this other family member, who had been such a nurturing person in my childhood, was essentially absent to me emotionally in my grief. She would make herself available at the critical beginning, and loved me more by "doing," all of which was so needed as I was rendered so helpless in my early, acute grief.

But in the days beyond those early days, my pain continued. And after one or two years, the shock wore off, and the reality set in. Abject pain. And my body started to react to the continual downloading of pain and agony by secreting stress hormones. The bottom was dropping out emotionally.

My family member? I sensed she was scared of such intense pain; I could never really blame her for that. I sensed it was more than she could bear.

...But she couldn't try, just a little bit?

I am supported in my early, acute grief, but when I am overwhelmed by severe helplessness and trauma over the years as I struggle with the world's most severe form of grief and trauma, she's nowhere to be found? Incredible! And yet, I know, the pain IS unbearable.

In recognition of this need for affiliation as a protection against trauma,... the central issue in disaster management is (therefore) the provision and restoration of social support.

~van der Kolk

(Two trauma experts) have called the social support that surrounds victims "the trauma membrane."

~van der Kolk, writing about Lindy and Titchener

Here's where I feel everybody has dropped the ball. At the very time you need your family, your community, and your community of faith, it seems they all disappeared. Not God though. He is my Rock, my Gentle Shepherd, my Father God who too lost His Child. But the rest? Where did they go?

How cruel not even to try to climb into my pain.

Even more cruel to try to talk me out of my pain.

And even more cruel to expect me to jump back into old activities as if my world hasn't Ended in so many ways.

Because of the lack of validation and support, traumatic memories are more likely to continue to prey on the victims' minds, and to be expressed as anger, withdrawal, or otherwise disrupted and disrupting behaviors....

For many, one of the most painful lessons trauma brings is they often feel God-forsaken AND betrayed by their fellow human beings.

~van der Kolk, highlight mine

I don't feel God-forsaken, but I feel very much betrayed by my fellow human-beings. Really, they don't seem very human at all...

And I become hurt, mad, disappointed, and I feel the need to withdraw... And that is interpreted by this family member as a direct affront to all the "love" she supposedly has available to offer me, offered mind you, in her terms, in essence,

"Get down here and party with us, and I'll eek out a little bit of love to you."

But when I do spend time with her, she is critical and aloof...

And she calls that love?! Sorry, my aching, broken heart is tender, and I cannot handle any more of your insensitivity, manipulation, and hurtfulness.

Traumas provoke emotional reactions in proportion to the degree of threat and horror accompanying them. One way of dealing with these intense emotions is to look for scapegoats who can be held responsible for the tragic event. Family members and other sources of social support can be so horrified at being reminded of the fact that they, too, can be struck by tragedies beyond their control that they start shunning the victims and blame them for what has happened--a phenomenon that has been called "the second injury"

~van der Kolk

Many trauma survivors' testimonies indicate that not being supported by the people they counted on, and being blamed for bringing horrendous experiences upon themselves, have left deeper scars than the original trauma itself.

~Lifton

This is hard to understand.

How could anything be more painful than the loss of your child?!

But you certainly think you can count on some people to be there in the pain with you, at least from time to time. Ah, there's the biggest rub.

Feeling dropped by those you thought you could count on has been devastating.

I have had to avoid these people because now they hurt me, and I cannot afford to be hurt further. Even their disinterest hurts. But their downright meanness is inexcusable. Nothing can hurt more than losing my baby... And yet, the scars of their callousness do run deep. All the way down into my already broken heart.

Pictures by FotoSearch and PhotoBucket

Friday's Faith - Does Child-Loss Grief Make Me An Alien?

Friday's Faith

Does Child-Loss Grief Make Me An Alien?

After going through a Thanksgiving of peace as it was designed around our child-loss grieving needs, not around the expectations of others, my heart is nurtured, and for that I'm so thankful! But there is a heightened awareness of how much I do not "fit in" to the world around me.

One family member took it upon her naughty self to write a rebuking email, heavy-laden with guilt, manipulation and sentimentalism. As if I didn't already have enough of a load on my troubled heart, you felt the need to pile on to a heart-broken bereaved mother?!

Such message from a person one otherwise would expect to be kind, compassionate, and caring adds to the disillusionment of this griever. It also underlines, accentuates, and aggravates the new realizations of how "odd" I am, of how I don't "fit in," of how I feel like I have been dropped onto a foreign planet where no previously-known earthly citizen understands, nor can communicate with this grieving alien.

It is a harrowing experience, like I am living in an Alfred Hitchcock unsolvable mystery --trapped on a planet where no one speaks my language, and expects behaviors from me that I can no longer produce to accommodate the canned-holiday-expectations of decorum. And such unconformity is treated as being right up there with the "unpardonable sins" such as blasphemy against the Holy Spirit, as family-get-togethers on man-made holidays are treated as holy as God Himself, barring any exceptions to the rule without threats of disbarring, or banishment from the tribe, if not even incurring the wrath of God Himself.

It is not so much the disappointment of the heaviness of Child-Loss Grief itself I grapple with as I am at a fairly peaceful place in Grief, that "It is what it is" - and that I must do what I need to do to cope with it.

But it IS a very heavy load, and others must simply

"Deal with it or you won't be dealing with me!"

It is more that I struggle with this weird sense of isolation from 99% of the earth's population who don't "get it" when it comes to my severe grief and continued broken heart EVEN though I do bask in God's love and comfort!

Many do not seem to think the two of those are compatible: If I have the latter (God's love and comfort), the first (Severe Grief and a Broken Heart) should not exist at all.

...So now, they feel a need to punish me...

So, I do what comes true to my heart, I turn to my Living Lord who has Living words for me and my troubled spirit.

Does Child-Loss Grief Make Me an Alien?

Here, I do not belong: I'm a citizen of Heaven...

Here, I do not fit in ~ the only "fit" I have here is th' one I've thrown...

Here, make me yeast for this world's leaven,

Here, prepare my soul to bow at Your Throne.

Here, Your child-loss griever is an alien!

Here, use Grief to sanctify (me to be) Heaven's citizen!

To which God assures me,

"I will create a City on that Shore:

Sounds of weeping, crying will be no more!

You will be a people blessed by the Lord;

My chosen ones will long enjoy (My) reward.

None will be harmed or destroyed in that City;

Your work (will) not (be) in vain, nor your children doomed t' pity.

Wait on Me, trust that My work will be done

In you, your work, and in your little one.

"Trust in Me in going through this desert,

Rest in me in this long winter's drought,

For soon you will find your sure treasure,

For here, My ways are past finding out!

"Faith is hope's blessed assurance,

The lack of sight's sure certainty.

Here, you must suffer endurance

of temporary misery,

awaiting Grief's alchemy

w'th paradoxical results achieved

accomplished by My mystery!

"Before you call, I will answer,

While you're still speaking, I will hear,

For you, My child, I have ransomed!

To you, I will ever draw near."

My Lord, though here, I may be an alien,

That is what You've called us to be,

For our citizenship IS in Heaven,

For we were designed to live there with Thee!

Give me grace for Grief's journey,

Knowing I walk through it with You,

Should others around me not understand me,

What's that to me if I'm ever accompanied by Thee?!

{based on Isaiah 65, and Hebrews 11}

Picture: http://www.fotosearch.com/BLD007/ca_42_4/

Poem: Does Child-Loss Grief Make Me an Alien? - Angie Bennett Prince - 12/2/10