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Anger, resentment and self-pity

No one likes to talk about these strong and ugly feelings. They get stuffed deep down into the shadows of our soul. Who in their right mind would want to admit to having such negative and self-loathing emotions? Me!

I must be crazy, or maybe I am just human.

When you go through something as traumatic as losing your child, you find out how many emotions we humans are actually capable of experiencing.

For years our lives were a rollercoaster when it came to Xavier's medical condition...  the "scanxiety" before MRIs, the anticipation of a successful surgery, the waiting... and more waiting. But even since he's been gone, this rollercoaster of emotions does not stop. Now it's the grief we carry with us each and every day.

My last post was on grief and gratitude. How quickly things change. Grieving is a forever process and I am finding I go in and out of different phases regularly. Lately, I have been wallowing in a rather ugly state of anger, resentment, and self-pity. These emotions are sandwiched between the sadness, which is forever a part of us.

"We have this misguided notion that we are supposed to be serene and accepting. It might surprise us how strongly we can feel this emotion. But grieving is a messy process, not a tidy package."

Perhaps this post will offend someone with my bluntness, but I want to be real. These feelings exist and are often a natural reaction to great loss. The feelings I am about to describe do not define who I am, they are not truly how I see the world and others. They are simply feelings I must work through as I process the loss of my precious boy.

I am embarrassed and disgusted to admit that I have been angry and resentful that life goes on for everyone else; angry you get to keep your son and I didn't. I  get angry God did this, he let this happen to us. I am angry Mackenzie has to live without her brother and angry he left us. Sometimes I struggle to sympathize with others who see catastrophes, when I only see minor issues. I see your struggles as a blessing because you have a chance to still experience life when my son doesn't.

I am angry I am angry.

"Even if you know your anger isn’t logical or justified, you can’t always help how you feel. Emotions aren’t always rational and logical."

There is no sugar coating the honesty in my words. But to cover them up, pretend I don't feel what I feel will only hurt me in the long run. The only way to get passed these messy feelings is to let them go. But, I can only let go of what I know I am holding on to. I must first admit to them, recognize them for what they are and then, and only then can I let them go.

And through my writing, my journaling, this post I am letting them go...


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It feels like yesterday: Grief at one-year

The fog has returned
My focus and clarity gone
Grief has settled in again
I am tired; my body slumps and is too heavy to carry. I want to sleep.

We are now in the last days before Xavier died. He was alive this day last year. But on May 13 there is no living memory of him last year, aside from a couple hours of unconscious sleep before he took his last breath beside me. I held my breath with him waiting for the next and it didn’t come.

We had a great few days this week last year and he was full of laughs, full of life! We saw a glimpse of this again in ICU. Then he deteriorated. 

The zipper that keeps us all inside Earth started to split. His connection to this plane was ripping apart. When the zipper fully detached he was opened to eternity.

This week has been challenging, constantly fighting back memories of this time last year. Painful memories of life and death decisions. Time is nothing. It hurts just as bad now as it did last year. My grief had been contained, but is now wide open. 


Grief and gratitude: What's the connection?

It has been a while since my last post.

 I don't know how many times I and other bloggers have likely used this opening. But as boring and cliche as those words are, there is hope within this opening line.


I haven't written because I haven't needed to like I have in the past to release the overwhelming whirlpool of emotions splashing out of me with nowhere to go but into words on a page. Journaling has always been a wonderful tool for me when I am experiencing intense feelings or untamed stress.

In fact my lack of posts is because I have been preoccupied with life. A life I want to live despite losing one of my greatest gifts in my life, my son Xavier.

But in the last month, I have experienced joy and the gifts my precious son left here for me. I would give anything and everything to have him here with me, but having accepted the reality that is just not possible, I now choose to focus on the positives this experience has brought to my life.

I have started a new job …

Don’t go 2017!

New Years  A time of reflection. A time of celebration. A time of joy and a time of sorrow. 
I approach 2018 with so many mixed emotions.  This year has been hell on Earth. The pain and heartache of losing Xavier will forever be how we remember 2017.  But leaving this year and starting anew fills me with an overwhelming sadness. To say goodbye to this awful year is to also say goodbye to the last year I will ever see Xavier alive. He lived in 2017. I have memories we made together in 2017.  Next year I will have none. He will not lived a day in 2018.  New Year’s is one more piercing stab of reality he is gone.  2017 was the worst year of my life, yet I want to hang onto it forever.  Hidden within the brokenness of 2017 was also a year of immeasurable growth: growth in my faith, my spirituality and my awareness of who I really am.  I lost my son and found insight. Things I had been searching for in my life and trying to make sense of suddenly became clear.  I found strength I never knew existed…