Forever in My Heart Friday. FIMHF. Week 47. So yesterday, Corban in such a solemn voice tells me, “I wish we could take Myesha’s ashes and put them back together again.” I blankly starred over at him. Words of comfort have run out. I don’t even know what to say to my children anymore. All too often I struggle to find a way to comfort myself. All I can say anymore is, “I miss her too”, and offer them a hug. There’s nothing more to say. Nothing more I can do. I found myself that night picking up her urn and holding her in my arms the way you would hold a baby. I turned on some music on my phone and just sat there and sang to her, rocking her. It was such an overwhelming desire to just hold her in my arms again.
It is times like these that the world becomes dreamlike, a surreal place where all of your thoughts and feelings become blurred as the concept of time disappears. Imagine yourself on a roller coaster as it slowly takes you to the initial peak, rapidly sending you down the other side. It twists and turns, takes you upside down, and yet, you feel nothing. Everyone around you is screaming, laughing, they have their hands in the air. And there you are. It’s as if you’re in an out of body experience. A feeling of numbness has sub come and disassociation has found a way to consume you. This feeling actually has a name. It’s called Anhedonia. It’s a common response when a person experiences sudden trauma or anxiety. Anhedonia is the inability to experience pleasure from activities usually found enjoyable, e.g. exercise, hobbies, music, sexual activities or social interactions. The trouble is it’s difficult to explain feelings of nothingness to people who feel a general something-ness. When you feel nothing, the world seems to make less sense. You look in the mirror and barely recognize yourself. Experiences and people that once evoked joy and happiness evoke nothing at all. Hand in hand with exhaustion, even day to day activities, including the ones you used to enjoy, seem all to overwhelming or foreign. You alienate and isolate unable to imagine being a “normal” person ever again, filtering through information as you are able, instead of all at once. It’s not even a sense that this is all just a bad dream anymore. You are fully aware that your worst nightmare is now reality. “My child is dead. She’s never coming back.”
So perhaps this state of numbness is nature’s way of slowing us down to heal, protecting us from the overwhelming emotions. You learn that letting go of how you “should” feel and find people who are willing to accept you for how you do feel makes a big difference. Slowly realizing that grief is a life-long adjustment to be embraced and not feared. Eventually you will begin to once again engage in activities that gave you pleasure in the past and develop new interests. You will begin to see and feel a possibility of hope for a meaningful life ahead. There is no set time for grief. The loss of your child is the loss of a part of you. Mommy loves you Myesha. FIM<3F
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