Tag Archives: mental-health

COMPASSION FOR MY CHILDREN

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7. BE COMPASSIONATE WITH YOUR SURVIVING CHILDREN

  • Grieving siblings are often “forgotten mourners”. This means that their parents and family as well as friends and society tend to overlook their ongoing grief or attempt to soothe it away.

CARPE DIEM: 

Hold a family meeting and talk to your children about their feelings since the death. Even if the death wasn’t recent, you may uncover lingering resentments, fears and regrets. Expressing these feelings may help bring your family closer together. (Alan D. Wolfelt, PhD, HEALING A PARENTS’S GRIEVING HEART: 100 PRACTICAL IDEAS AFTER YOUR CHILD DIES, 2005)

Sadly, it was a long time before I could look around and see how Joseph’s death affected my children. My youngest daughter is actively involved with the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention (https://afsp.org/). She is on the Board in our state and is their Social Media Ambassador, with a team of volunteers. She is very open, publicly, about how her brother’s death affected her. On the anniversary of his death, for the past few years, she, her daughter, and I have been going to the beach to watch the sun rise. Afterward, we go to breakfast. One year we threw flowers into the ocean. Another, shells marked with the names of others’ lost loved ones, from an Out of the Darkness Walk (https://afspwalks.donordrive.com/OOTDWalks). We talk about Joseph a lot, but I can’t say that we talk about our feelings. Our relationship has had its ups and downs. She was able to share with me some of the resentments she had toward me that had nothing to do with Joseph. I was able to apologize. Our relationship has gotten better. There is still room for improvement.

My eldest daughter has her own mental health struggles and carries a lot of resentment toward me. We have not had a conversation about it. She has levelled some pretty nasty words toward me. In the hospital emergency room last year, she told me to leave the room when the screener asked her if she would be admitted voluntarily. She then asked her husband to have me come back in and said to me, “My mother is fucking up my life again.” When she came home and I tried to explain to her how, by having the hospital staff give her the contract I drew up for her return to my home, my intention was to tell them she was homeless if she would not agree. Before I could finish my explanation, which was that the hospital would then have to find her an appropriate supportive place to stay, she looked me dead in the eye and said, with venom, “The last time you told someone they were homeless, they killed themselves. Is that what you want?”

When I later recounted this experience to her sister, she looked at me, shrugged and nodded. I remember her saying, “Well, yeah”, but that may just have been my impression from the nod and the shrug.

My other son, well, he has not spoken to me in ten years. Our last conversation was on Mother’s Day 2015, the year after Joseph’s death. I was having a tough day. I had not heard from any of my children, so when he called, I was crying. Trying to hide that fact from him, when he said, “Happy Mother’s Day…ok, gotta go”…or something like that, I said, “Okay”. He sounded surprised; and, we did hang up. If I remember correctly, I then went to the cemetery, where I found my younger daughter and granddaughter. I walked to the grave, crying, and my daughter hugged me. (I could be confusing this day with another…) 

I saw my son sometime after that at my granddaughter’s First Holy Communion. I may have put my hand on his shoulder as I passed him in the pew on my way to receive communion myself. At the end of the Mass, he was gone. The family went out to eat, but I went home. It was just too difficult.

My mother passed away in January, and I saw him at the wake and funeral. I met his girlfriend for the first time and gave her a hug. I said, “Hello, Son” to him. He looked like a deer in the headlights, eyes shifting back and forth. I just walked away, giving him space. I saw him again the next day, at the funeral. I gave him an icon I bought for him in Fatima, Portugal, and had blessed by the Archbishop for the Military. Again, I walked away. We did not sit together at the repast, but he stood with my younger daughter, granddaughter and me for a photo his girlfriend took. She sent me a copy. I am grateful.

So…sitting down for a family meeting with my children for a discussion of our feelings about Joseph’s death, or about anything, is out of the question for now. Maybe someday.

SELF-COMPASSION

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BE COMPASSIONATE WITH YOURSELF

CARPE DIEM

What are you beating yourself up about these days? If you have the energy (and you won’t always), address the problem head-on. If you can do something about it, do it. If you can’t, try to be self-forgiving. (Alan D. Wolfelt, PhD, HEALING A PARENT’S GRIEVING HEART: 100 PRACTICAL IDEAS AFTER YOUR CHILD DIES, 2005)

What am I beating myself up about these days? Same as always…shoulda, woulda, coulda. If someone came to me with my story, I would be horrified for them, at the trauma of finding their dead child. I would give them grace, listen with compassion and empathy.

But for myself, no. There is nothing I can do about it now. He is gone. Can I forgive myself? That is the hard part. That is the journey I am on now. Because until I do, forgive myself, I cannot get to the grief that lives inside me, externalize it into mourning, and develop a new relationship with my deceased son. I cannot believe that he forgives me. That last day plays over and over in my mind…wishing for a different outcome…

He had made multiple attempts in the past that had no relation to anything I said or did. But that day, the day he died, was after I told him he needed to find somewhere else to live. We had an agreement, no drugs or alcohol. I had found empty packages of cold medications with DXM, dextromethorphan, his drug of choice, robo-tripping. Big deal breaker. I gave him the rest of the weekend to get out. I had locked him out of the house while I went to work…at a psychiatric children’s home…I had offered to give him a ride somewhere. He said he had “no place to go”. In retrospect, that was a big red flag. I had reached out to his sisters and his father, letting them know what was going on. I left him sitting on the deck, using the wifi on his phone. 

We took the teens at the group home to fireworks that night. I left work telling a coworker that I had to go home and deal with my son. I had trouble getting the door open and when I finally did…I screamed and screamed…had difficulty getting through to 911. I will spare you the gory details. One comment only…a police officer kept saying, “Calm down, calm down”. I looked at him as I tried and, in my mind, said, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

He had found a way in. I could not understand how, but later found my garage unlocked. He must have done that before we walked out of the house.

I have two other children with mental illnesses, who have made attempts in the past. One was living in my house with her husband and son, while I lived and worked in Germany for over a year. She had lost her job shortly after she moved in, so the plan for her to save money and buy a house by the time I came back did not happen. I was not prepared for the condition of my house when I returned…a filthy, hoarder situation. It took me two days to clean my bathroom…a whole bottle of bleach just to get the scale out of the toilet bowl. 

All of our communication while I was away was pleasant. The first indication I had that anything was wrong was a quick pan through one room in our last video call before I came back. I asked if the house was clean, but realized later that she never answered me.

I reached out to my county’s Intensive Family Support Services (https://naminj.org/resources/intensive-family-support-services-ifss/) for help. I had a wonderful consultant, who managed the program, and I attended support group meetings.  About a month after my return, my daughter had a psychotic episode and ended up in the hospital. While she was there, I went through her stuff and got rid of garbage, unused medications, including ketamine she was getting through the mail, and THC vapes. I created a contract, which she refused to sign, but, I informed her that by coming back to my home, she had agreed to it. 

As you can imagine, the history with my son loomed large over the situation. Fortunately, I had the support of my IFSS consultant, who even came to the house to meet with us. After a while, my daughter got herself a hotel room. Her son was staying with his father. I was left with her husband, for whom English is a second language, and all their stuff. After about a month of this, I gave her 30 days notice to vacate. It was a difficult decision, but one I needed to make for my own sanity and well-being. I rarely hear from her, but I reach out via email from time to time. I have learned that I can make plans through her with my grandson, which is a blessing.

GRIEF VS MOURNING

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UNDERSTAND THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN GRIEF AND MOURNING

  • Grief is the constellation of internal thoughts and feelings we have when someone loved dies. Grief is the weight in the chest, the churning in the gut, the unspeakable thoughts and feelings.
  • Mourning is the outward expression of grief. Mourning is crying, journaling, creating artwork, talking to others about the death, telling the story, speaking the unspeakable.
  • Everyone grieves when someone loved dies, but if we are to heal, we must also mourn.

CARPE DIEM:

Ask yourself this: Have I truly been mourning the death of my child or have I restricted myself to grieving? (Alan D. Wolfelt, PhD, HEALING A PARENT’S GRIEVING HEART: 100 PRACTICAL IDEAS AFTER YOUR CHILD DIES, 2005)

Ugh…by this definition, it would appear that I have done both. But, sometimes, I feel like I have done neither. Sometimes I feel like it is all wrapped up in unresolved trauma. Sometimes I feel stuck and isolated and alone. Sometimes I live life like I am okay. Other times, I stay home, with the door closed, and have no contact with the outside world, and listen to the negative committee that lives in my head telling me it is all my fault. The fact that I have two other children who do not talk to me feeds my guilt and sense of worthlessness.

In my friendships and work life, I get lots of positive feedback and love, but that negative committee in my head tells me they have never lived with me. They do not truly know me. If they did, they would see the Gollum (see Lord of the Rings) that lives inside me and know how truly evil I am. Nobody can be harder on me than me…except maybe my kids. 

So, today, I will get out of the house and leave the negative committee home. I will see if my friend, who has dementia and truly appreciates my visits, is up for company.

I KNOW I’M NOT ALONE

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Excerpt:

2. KNOW THAT YOU ARE NOT ALONE

You are not alone. In the United States alone, more than 100,000 children die each year. (In other, less fortunate countries, of course, this number is staggeringly higher.) This number does not include miscarriages and stillbirths. Countless more adult children die; consider that most people who die in their fifties or younger leave behind a surviving parent. If you add up these numbers and consider all the children who have died in the last two decades, this means that literally millions of other parents are grieving the death of a child. (Alan Wolfelt, PhD, HEALING A PARENT’S GRIEVING HEART, 2005)

The support groups I participate in are not specifically for parents, but there are parents among the members. One is for clinicians who have lost a family member to suicide. As clinicians, we are not immune from child loss by suicide. 

I used to participate in my county’s Traumatic Loss Coalition before I lost my son. We responded to traumatic losses in our communities (https://ubhc.rutgers.edu/education/trauma-loss-coalition/overview.xml). I realized, responding after I lost him, that it was retraumatizing for me, and I dropped out. Someone at one of the regular meetings once said that, knowing me, he was surprised that I lost my son this way. Being a clinician does not always guarantee that we say the right things. 

The other support group is for survivors of suicide loss, again, not specific to parents, but there are other parents among us. Sometimes people tell their stories with specifics to the method of death; and, they want to hear specifics of other’s experiences. I do not find this helpful, but, again, retraumatizing. It brings back memories of the night I found my son. I still go back there from time to time. I do not need reminders from others. I have, though, actually presented, to a group in a Counseling class, the details of that night. I asked them to close their eyes and go with me. The professor, my dear friend, was available to meet with anyone affected by the presentation, and I offered Reiki (energy healing) to those I suspected were being activated.

There was a group for mothers that met three times a year, but it faded away. I consider starting one again, but I still have work to do before I can do that.

Resources given by Dr. Wolfelt:The Compassionate Friends is the largest organization of grieving parents and its chapters hold support groups in hundreds of communities across the United States. Visit them on the web at www.compassionatefriends.org. Bereaved Parents of the USA (www.bereavedparentsusa.org) is another growing and reputable organization. For parents who have no surviving children, a group called Alive Alone (www.alivealone.org) may offer valuable assistance. (Wolfelt, 2005)

SURVIVING

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In my neck of the woods, there is an organization called Stephy’s Place (https://www.stephysplace.org/sp/). It’s a support center for those who grieve. Last night they sponsored a talk by Alan Wolfert, PhD, of the Center for Loss & Life Transition  (https://www.centerforloss.com/). I attended. 

Before the talk, I picked up a couple of his books. The one I’m using for my renewed attempt to regularly write this blog, starting today, is entitled, “Healing a Parent’s Grieving Heart: 100 Practical Ideas After Your Child Dies”. My son, Joseph, died by suicide 11 years ago, July 5, 2014. He would have turned 34 this month, which is probably why I am feeling the ”urge for going”…(https://youtu.be/ZvSvTRhAJxg?si=jNr174FC02Brv7rF).

So…excerpt:

KNOW THAT YOU WILL SURVIVE 

Many newly bereaved parents also struggle with feeling they don’t want to survive. Again, those who have gone before you want you to know that while this feeling is normal, it will pass. One day in the not-too-distant future you will feel that life is worth living again. For now, think of how important you are to your remaining children, your partner, your own parents and siblings, your friends. (Wolfelt, 2005)”

I am not “newly bereaved” but I still struggle, at times, with feeling like I don’t want to survive. At those times,I don’t see my importance to anyone. Two of my surviving three children don’t speak to me. I have no partner. My last surviving parent, my mom, died in January. My siblings…we’ve never been close…although I do talk to one brother and my sisters from time to time. My closest friend died in 2020. I do have other friends, one is struggling with dementia. I have a couple of support groups I attend sporadically.

I get most of my self-worth from work. When I’m engaged in work…I am a Licensed Clinical Social Worker, by the way…I am in the flow. I love helping people. I am semi-retired now, taking assignments from time to time. I’m considering an assignment for a school-year position 10 hours from home…that “urge for going” working on me.
But…I have survived eleven years. I will continue to survive. I am hoping this exercise results in exorcise of the demons within.