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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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I honestly don't know how I have made it this far. To imagine I could endure so much pain for half a year and still survive is a testament to our God and his presence in my life. Without his strength helping me make it through each day, I would not still be here. I am tired of feeling so much pain.

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It feels like yesterday: Grief at one-year

The fog has returned
My focus and clarity gone
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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. 


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