Sometimes I go to group therapy and it's good. And sometimes it's.....not.
The good - sometimes it feels good to commiserate with other moms who struggle with the similar emotions and have experienced that horrific loss of a child (no matter the age or the cause). And often, as long as I can stay positive and focus on the good things - and not get down deep in my feelings - it's good.
The bad - getting in deep in the feels. This session was hard. Listening to one more - who's also lost a young adult child in a car wreck - and the substitute facilitator compare the lingering in the hospital before dying as more difficult than the sudden loss = HARD. Listening to her describe how her child was able to save 4 lives because of organ donation (when an out of hospital death exempts that) = hard.
Talking about mother's day. Jason wants to go to church - with Nana - so that starts at 1. So I get to go for 3 hours and listen to how great mom's are (mine is) and how great it is to be a mom (it is - but.....I have an empty spot where a child once stood). I get to listen to how great God is - and how prayers are answered - and.....whatever platitude they decide to share. Grace has to work. She has prom on Saturday, late night so she will probably sleep late, and get up in time to get ready for work. Steve may have to work. His job is throwing him extra work this weekend to help us out (and them) - to pay for my upcoming eye surgeries. I'm actually not upset about them having to work. Because then there's not all this pressure to feign happiness at the recognition of being a mom. I don't have to go out to eat (what Steve likes to do) and pretend life is great. I don't have to open gifts and pretend life is great because my family loves me. (or feel neglected if they don't give a gift at all). It can be a normal day (minus the church - and mothers/motherhood is grand). Jason and I can play outside or watch movies or play monopoly or minion trouble. And then when it's over, I can go to bed and wake up and it's Monday. And Mother's Day is over.
I often question where I'm at in the world. Am I valuable to anyone? I feel so angry and bitter and utterly depressed most days. I don't feel I bring any goodness to anyone. I feel like I'm in this deep, dark hole, all by myself, and the only one that could rescue me is my son. That isn't here anymore. I wish I could find more enjoyment out of my family that is still here. I wish I didn't feel guilty eveery time I laughed or did something fun. I wish I didn't look at the dining table and see only the chair he used to sit. I wish I didn't open a cabinet and see kitchenware that he used to own. That should still be in his kitchen, being used by him. I wish I didn't feel this melancholy recognition of him in every aspect of my environment. I wish the lump in my throat and the heaviness in my stomach would just stop. And I wonder if this is my so called "new normal"?
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