Struggling Again

[mbkubitz]

While I know that the pain and grief from losing a child will last the rest of my life, I had gotten to a point where I felt like maybe the worst of it was over. But over the last 3-4 months, the intensity has slowly grown again to the point where I decided I needed to go back on anti-depressants just to get through the necessities of every day life without breaking down constantly or getting so overwhelmed and frustrated that I lash out at people who don't deserve it and are in fact my biggest supporters (my childen, husband, and co-workers). I have tried to write about it to help get through these emotions (http://wp.me/p2imOE-7r), but I wonder if others experience these major bouts of depression years after their loved one has passed? Should I expect them for years more to come?

[mfh]

While I know that the pain and grief from losing a child will last the rest of my life, I had gotten to a point where I felt like maybe the worst of it was over. But over the last 3-4 months, the intensity has slowly grown again to the point where I decided I needed to go back on anti-depressants just to get through the necessities of every day life without breaking down constantly or getting so overwhelmed and frustrated that I lash out at people who don't deserve it and are in fact my biggest supporters (my childen, husband, and co-workers). I have tried to write about it to help get through these emotions (http://wp.me/p2imOE-7r), but I wonder if others experience these major bouts of depression years after their loved one has passed? Should I expect them for years more to come?

Dear Maria, My heart pours out for you in the loss of your child. I am so very sorry. I have never lost a child. I have never even been blessed to birth a child. So I will not pretend to have even a tiny clue as to the pain you are and have experienced. But I do know grief and loss. I lost my soulmate and husband 3 years ago and yes, bouts of grief (not depression) come and go. I hesitate to agree with your identifying your pain as depression. It sounds like grief to me and in view of your loss, I would think that is what it is. And I do believe that grief comes in waves. I am now in year four. Bill died in March of 2010. Though I think the worst of my pain is behind me, I hurt every single day. I always will as will you. I have days (even weeks) when the pain is deeper and more difficult than other weeks. I read an article recently about the 4th year following a crisis. I am attaching it. This author calls it Recovery from Recovery. I am wondering if you are seeing a good, well trained grief counselor to assist you with this loss and/or in a support group. I find that sharing my pain here on the spousal loss forum, with a good friend, and in the past a grief counselor and support group...all make this journey more bearable. I do not think it is unrealistic to have the deep pain return. I am sure others will chime in here and say pretty much the same thing. I hold you in the light in this incredible loss of that beautiful little girl. Peace to your heart, Mary

[mfh]

Maria, I just remembered that I forgot to post the article. Here it is. 4th year highlighted.pdf

[Lizasoup]

Dear Maria, I think of my own grief as an elliptical shape and picture it in orbit around my core life. Sometimes, it's very close and almost feels like it did during the very first days of loss. At other times, I' m cognizant of it but it remains a comfortable distance and I'm able to tolerate it. Every so often, it's at the far end the orbit and I feel real happiness and contentment in my core life.

Though I have never lost a child, and my heart aches for you, 5 years ago I suffered 5 losses in one year. The first two years were very dark. I, still, have moments in time, where the losses seem unbearable. When my grief is close I try to remember the things that helped me survive the first years...one step at a time, tell someone, accept the hugs and the words of support, honor the one you lost in a tangible way, allow yourself to mourn and remember, make a connection - even if it's just "hello" - to one other person every day, get out of the house for a bit...and, gradually the grief moves to a more distant place in orbit.

I don't know if the grief orbit is forever or if it changes shape or form. It helps me to visualize it as a real, tangible thing and to name it because, then, I can do something for it and, I think, it helps the other people in your life understand you.

I will carry you in my thoughts and I send you whispers of peace to your heart.

Liza

[kayc]

Maria,

I lost my husband and that affects every aspect of my life...but a child, there's just something about that which doesn't seem natural. We don't expect to lose our children. I know the missing them never goes away, but we try our best to cope with and adjust to the loss. I think it helps to see a Grief Counselor and join a support group with others who have been there so you know your feelings are not alone. My heart goes out to you, I am so sorry you are having to live with this kind of loss.

Kay

[mlg]

For some reason, my worst year has been the 5th after I lost my husband. It was even worse than the first year. I felt like I was falling in a DEEP hole. I finally was put on Sertraline but I am now cutting the pills in half because it doesn't let you have any emotion and I don't like that. It is not natural and I think you do have to grieve in your own way. I do find peace in some things and have gotten my love of cooking back. I'm even trying new recipes.

I think each of us lives on a roller coaster of emotions but we all handle it differently. I know this website helped me immensely when I first lost my husband.

Mary Linda

[lilacsandladybugs]

Maria, I hope you have found some peace since you first posted this thread. While I can understand the pain of loss, a child is a different thing of course. The return of hard times however seems to happen to us all. I just came out of a three week devastating relapse if you will. Sometimes triggers just set it off. Often we don't even recognize what those triggers were but they come just the same. Mary Linda, I understand what you have said. We are lucky to have this place to come to.

Remember, it's okay to break down. Remember as well, the tools are here to help you get back up again. That goes for all of us.

Stephen

[mfh]

Stephen, I have not been around much due to eye surgeries and not being around will continue for a while but I saw your post in my email and just needed to say that what you call a relapse may just be part of the journey. It sometimes feels like relapse or even regression but I think it is all part of the journey. I hope you feel free to share your pain here when/if that happens again. We all have times like this and everyone here will support you in all the times of your life. I attached what I wrote way back when one day I felt like I was regressing in grief.

Peace

Mary

The Labyrinth of Grief revised.pdf

[lilacsandladybugs]

Mary,

Thank you for taking the time to share that with me. I know how difficult things have been for you lately and please know that I have had you in my thoughts often sending you my best energy with hope and prayer. What you had written is not only very profound but comforting to me and others who from time to time lapse into those little episodes. It is indeed part of our journey and I for one recognize the difference between regressing and falling into potholes scattered along the way.

Funny thing about potholes.........you can't see them when the road is covered with water.

Stephen

[mfh]

Stephen, I do like the pothole concept...it does indeed feel as if we fall into potholes of all sizes....some feel more like sinkholes. I have been working on a painting of one such thing. And yet it is hard to see them when the road is covered with water....tears of grief.

Mary

[mbkubitz]

Thank you all for your kind words. It has gotten much better since I first posted this. I wrote it when I was in the depths of the "sinkhole" you talk about and couldn't find which was was up. I managed to get out with support and have continued to march forward. I personally get much of my healing through wiritng, and have created a site, http://www.aliveinmemory.org, where I write about grief and memories of my daughter. Her birthday was this past Sunday. I wrote a letter to her, as I did on last year's birthday. I didn't have any idea of what I wanted to say when I started writing it, but what came out was representative of both the pain and hope I feel since her death. I'll paste it here so you can read it. Thanks again for being a supportive place I can lean on. Maria

Dear Margareta,

On September 1, you would have turned eight years old. It will be the fourth birthday we have to celebrate without you here to celebrate it with us. The fourth time we have to sing “Happy Birthday” while holding back the tears. After this month is over, you will have been gone longer than you were alive.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. You were supposed to live a long, full life. A life full of adventure. A life full of creativity and quirkiness. You were supposed to continue to surprise us with your choices and path in life. You were supposed to be my best friend and confidant. You were supposed to continue to challenge my status quo and widen my horizons. You were supposed to…

Whatever you were “supposed to do” was lost the day you died. My dreams for you will never come true. I am left sitting here holding my shattered dreams of raising a daughter. I kindly brush off the question, “Are you going to try for a girl?” when some stranger sees or hears I have four boys. I can’t bring myself to prolong the conversation by saying that I already have a daughter…because the pain that comes with that statement still feels like a knife was just stuck in my heart all over again.

Despite my continuing anguish over not having you by my side, you still continue to teach me each and every day. You have taught me a deeper appreciation of life than I could have ever imagined. Everything has more meaning now. The joy I have learned to feel again is that much sweeter. The love I feel is that much more profound. The respect I have for this earth and all its gifts is that much more substantial. I pause longer and savor the beauty around me more than I once did. And while the sadness and violence throughout this world can now be overwhelming and bring tears more easily, I feel more compassion than I did before because I now understand pain that transcends words to describe it.

I am no longer satisfied to just “survive” life as I once did. I am no longer able to just bury painful emotions and pretend that it will magically get better someday. I now truly understand that our lives require a lot of work, and we cannot just sit idly by and blame others and lament that they are not acting or being the way we need them to be. I have fully learned that only I am responsible for my own situation and path in life. That is not to say that I don’t still falter and fall back into old bad habits and thoughts. But now that I have seen this gift that is life so quickly taken away, I am compelled to keep moving forward whenever I stumble.

I look forward to your many signs and whispers to me every day. They not only remind me of your continuing presence and importance in my life; they keep me grounded in the moment. They keep me tuned to love. For if I have learned anything from both your life and your death, it is that love is always within us, around us, and the way through. I often hear other parents faced with the tremendous pain of losing a child ask, “How do I go on?” Many times, both I and others answer, “You just do. One day, or one moment, at a time.” But the real answer is love. Our love is what gets us through the darkest moments.

Margareta, it is through you that I’m able to fulfill a lifelong dream. Since I was a little girl, I’ve known that I want to help people. I’ve never quite known how, but here it is. I’m helping others through their grief by being honest about my own. I’m able to show others there is hope. I do this in your name and in your honor. With only four short years on this earth, you left an indelible mark on the hearts of those who knew you, but you weren’t able to make your mark on the world. Here is your mark. You are helping others make it through their darkest hours. And you’re leaving your mark through love and compassion.

Your light shines on, and it shines ever so brightly as it did while you were here with us. You truly are our sunshine, and I continue to bask in your loving light.

With all my love,
Mama

[enna]

Such a very beautiful letter to your daughter, Margareta, Maria. Thank you for sharing it with us. Her light really will shine on in you.

Anne

[kayc]

Oh that is so beautifully written! You have learned the art of letting your loss bring about some good, something which none of us could at first imagine, but hopefully all get to eventually. I wish you well!

[lilacsandladybugs]

Maria!

How sweet that was to read. I hope you felt good writing it. I felt good reading it.