How people cope with losing a child is different person to person. How people cope with any kind of grief is different person to person. Here's how I have managed to NOT cope with my grief.
But first, some backstory. My son died in February of 2013. He was 1 year, 1 month and 1 week old. I had him for 404 days. That's it. He was murdered in my home that I still live in to this day. His room is the same as he left it. His clothes are still folded in his dresser and hang in the closet. His toys are still scattered about the floor. His pacifiers are still in my kitchen drawer and I just recently threw away his baby formula that was still in my pantry.
When he died, I was in shock. Period. Shock. Comfortably numb. I went back to work after one week with no hesitation. I refused any medication that anybody wanted to give me. I didn't want to make myself numb, although I understand now that I already was, probably wouldn't have hurt anything. But I wanted to feel. I wanted to feel his loss. I wanted to cry about it and be upset. I felt I owed him that, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't cry at his visitation, I couldn't cry at his funeral. Comfortably numb. My brain refused my efforts to pause my life and grieve. Maybe it's a mom thing. Maybe it was my way of protecting my other child, just take it one step at a time momma, live as normally as possible so this doesn't screw her up anymore.
So that was my first grief blanket. Shock. Numbness. Total lack of emotion. Thinking to myself: I can totally do this. I can totally survive this in one piece. Then, 7 months after he died... a knock on the door. My mom woke me from a deep, Nyquil induced sleep (I had an awful cold) to let me know a representative from the Sheriff's Department wanted to talk to us. We sat at my parents' kitchen table and was told that what we thought was an accident, wasn't. Plain and simple. All in my face. Here's the medical evidence, here's what was said happened, and here's the discrepancies. Anger. So much anger. The first words out of my mouth were "I want the motherfucker dead."
Anger was my second grief blanket. It covered up the sad. It replaced the numb. Anger. Never have I been so scared of a single emotion. So scared that I retreated. Retreated and hid in the safety of my home for months at a time. So scared that I might see this person in public and wondering who on this Earth would have the power to stop me should I get my hands around his neck. Scary anger. But anger I could deal with. Ok. Dealt with. Then came meetings with attorneys, court dates and being around more cops than I prefer. Blanket three.
I call this blanket "The Unhealthy Obsession." It was hours and days pouring over every detail of his death, reading and rereading court documents, searching for court cases that mirrored my own, googling overturned verdicts in cases like mine and generally trying to attorney my son's case myself. An unhealthy legal education. I poured over medical information that I did not understand. I read countless legal opinions. Numerous articles with medical backing that said Shaken Baby Syndrome did not exist. That's just one factor that contributed to his death, but not the only factor. Read, reread and overanalyzed everything he said to me after my son's death. This went on for a year. Blanketing my emotions with an obsession. The Unhealthy Obsession. Anything that would distract my mind from raw, real emotions. Then we won. Happiness. Justice. Wait. Shit. Now what? Well "now what" is currently right now.
It's like someone ripped the sutures out of my heart and I am now bleeding out on the table. Emotions out of nowhere. Emotions I have never felt before. Emotions I don't know what to do with. It's sadness, anger, guilt, depression and anxiety all rolled into one. Shit. Drugs. I need the drugs. Drugs would probably be a good option at this point. I still say no. But in my mind I thought I had already done the work to cope with losing my son and by now I should just be doing "follow up work." You know, the every so often breakdowns on holidays, anniversaries and birthdays? Apparently not. And apparently I'm not the only person that thought I was coping well with losing my son.
You suddenly realize that people don't want to talk about it anymore or they seem to veer off subject when you bring up your child's name. You realize that people cut you slack in the beginning with your emotional outbursts or your unkind words or inability to pay attention, but now that they assume you're "over it," they are less forgiving. But what if I was more okay in the beginning than I am now? Where is this timetable that other people have for grief? Is it online? Was it sent out via email? Maybe I should check my junk mail. Because that's what it is. Junk.
I have become that person. That person that buried her emotions so deep down in her soul that it took her almost two years to bring those emotions to the surface. So to my friends and family, I apologize. I'm sorry for being cold. I'm sorry for being emotionless to you. I'm sorry I don't pay attention when you speak. I'm sorry I say hurtful things without thinking. I'm sorry I don't consider your feelings first before my own. And I'm sorry that you don't understand. Actually, I'm not sorry about that. I hope none of you ever understand what this is like. It's emotionally crippling. It's word vomit when I should be silent and tears when I should be happy.
I am stalled out in an emotional hell that rears it's ugly head on a daily basis. When will it get better? Valid question. Apparently, I am stupid or smart enough (not sure which one) to NOT have dealt with this in the beginning so I can emotionally cripple my life and the ones in it to deal with something that should have been dealt with two years ago. Awesome. Sometimes, I have a really fucked up way of coping. I wish I could just use my normal everyday attitude and be like "fuck it, I'm over it, moving on." But grief doesn't work that way. You can move on all you want, but when that moment comes and the blankets are ripped off, grief will stop you dead in your tracks. Remember when I said I felt as though I owed it to my son to grieve his loss? Well, son, here it is, all ugly and unyielding. Grief. I hate that bitch.
So the two year anniversary of Keller's death is this February and I believe I am worse off now than I was in the weeks following his death. Grief Blankets - layers of warm, fuzzy comfort until they're ripped off layer by layer, then you're just left cold. Grief Blankets - they suck.
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