As I sit in a quiet, empty house, the dog beside me on the couch I focus on the task at hand. A new post for the blog. I've been neglecting the blog as of late. I suppose doing what I have done best for year...avoiding.
You see I have anxiety. It stems from some unfounded fear of dying. Although I've been scrutinized by doctors, therapists, psychiatrists there is no basis for this fear to have developed in my formative years. No tragedy, no trauma, no early exposure to death or dying. In fact the first close personal loss I ever experienced was that of my grandmother when I was 18 or so. So, I guess it just comes down to a chemical issue. So- the way I dealt with this fear was to avoid anything relating to death. For years I did this. It is so ingrained in who I am I still do it without conscious thought. I have always been a sensitive person, emotional and too sympathetic. I avoid movies where someone gets 'picked on' for any reason. I change the radio station when a sad song comes on. Completely on auto-pilot.
Needless to say although I have had my anxiety completely under control since before Reece was born, even though my anxiety had not been an issue I still avoided these things, even though I could probably handle the exposure.
Now I am at another stage in this mixed up, chemical, emotional, situational ...crux.
I have now been dealt the worst, in your face, reality based situation one can be exposed to. The loss of our Reecey. I made it through the first few months with medications and shock. Then my avoidance mechanism took over, back to work I went, going through the motions. Soon, this started to not work so well, especially when complicated by my becoming pregnant and trying to go medication free. Obviously, common sense would tell you that this could not last, and it didn't.
I broke down, physically and emotionally. Morning sickness coupled with migraines and constant anxiety and guilt about not measuring up at work and home, I had to take some time off.
During this time, I met with our counselor. He posed some tough questions to me, challenging my thought processes. Which was terribly difficult. He discovered that as a result of my cultural influences, I have a difficult time 'letting go' emotionally (at least when it comes to sadness). How very British of me.
...Lovely.
Apparently tea and toast isn't going to fix this state I'm in :)
SO, the work begins.
My first bit of homework given to me was to write a letter to Reece, THEN to write back to myself from her.
I can't even write
that sentence (above) without crying. Imagine how difficult these letters would be. It's been over a month, and I still can't do it.
During this time, we took a trip 'home' (for me anyway). I suppose I have a bit of gypsy in my personality. As a result of our moving a fair bit when I was little I have a difficult 'settling' down. We've been in Saskatoon for years. Certainly far longer than any other place, however it is not home. I feel very little connection to it, other than many great friends. I think when I think of "home" I picture a little village we lived in when I was in grades 4 through 8. It's called Havre Boucher. A French settlement, but mainly English speaking residents now of course. Which is why locals pronounce it "haver bushy". Anyway, when someone says 'home' to me I have always pictured the view from the road
directly between the Havre Boucher elementary school and the Catholic church. Situated on a hill in the heart of the community, you could look out and see the ocean. (Neither building as I remember them, are there now). There were stories of ghost ships sailing through the waters there and such rich history.
We traveled to NewBrunswick for my Papa's memorial, then onto Nova Scotia, where my parents have 're-settled' for their retirement. Not near Havre Boucher, but you can see the ocean from their living room window and when you go to town to shop, you hear the beautiful 'accents' of the east.
I fully understand how farmers on the Prairies have a connection to the land and stick with farming no matter how tough. It's home. I too have that connection, but to the east.
I thought I would find it difficult to return from the trip, but the truth was (and this was an awakening for me), I was relieved to come home. I felt physically and emotionally, more at peace, upon our return to Dundurn. I even gained a couple of much needed pounds the first week back.
I guess this was a taste of serendipity for me. Reece chose Dundurn for us, in many ways, and this has now been solidified.
I suppose this is part of my letter to her, to thank her for choosing our home for us. For showing me where and how to settle down.
But the real letter will have to wait. I'm just not there yet. Grant however, is much braver than I (in my opinion). Grant however, points out that " we are on different paths". Although he doesn't have to unteach himself the bad habit of 'avoidance'.
He has been writing and reading on and off since the beginning of our grieving. It is so intensely difficult, I watch him do it and am so proud of him. Admittedly, I can see now it may take me longer to learn to live with our loss than perhaps Grant. As I heard of another couple who lost a teenage son in a tragic accident; the mother allowed each moment of sadness to over take her and almost welcomed the pain. Eventually as the years passed those moments likely came less and further apart, until one day she seemed to feel some peace after having a dream about her son. I can see that Grant is likely on that path. The starting stepping stone maybe, but still further ahead than I think I am. I am just grateful he is leading the way and following his own path, and not sitting stagnant beside me.
To close on a lighter side- (Rachel will like this)- it seems Grant is finally 'my rock'!! (for those that were at our wedding you'll know what that's about :)
