The shrink

I saw the counsellor from Sids & Kids yesterday. Apparently, an important part of this whole “grief” thing, is actually crying. Who’d a thunk it.

I’ve been working hard at keeping it all together, and worrying more about how other people feel (and protecting them from the horror of my grief), so the tears get quashed, I put on a brave face, and get on with life.

So, my new years resolution (which I don’t believe in, and I am nonetheless doing, and doing early this year), is to fall apart a little bit. If I feel sad, I will cry, and I will try not to worry about protecting other people (except Inigo of course). I spent years training myself not to cry, to protect myself from bullies, so allowing myself to cry is a steep learning curve.

We’re going up to Pearl Beach after Christmas until after New Years, and I am going to take that time for me, for healing, and for saying “get stuffed” to feelings of obligation and concern for others.

If you’re a friend, please don’t ask me how I am. The answer will be “shithouse”. If you’re not a friend, I will lie, and tell you that I am looking forward to Christmas, that I had a good day, that things are fine, that I am getting “better”. But what is “better”? A slight improvement? Or is it just a word to make you feel better about my disaster of a life?

If I don’t know you, if you ask me how many children I have, I’ll say, “one, he’s three”. But if you’re a friend, or if I want to be real with you, I’ll say, “Three, but only one living. I lost twin babies this year”. It’s horrible saying it out loud, but it’s even worse denying their existence.

8 thoughts on “The shrink”

  1. I cry. I have been doing so in the last month when I was told that my father has terminal cancer. I don’t care that I cry in front of other people and make them uneasy. I cry because I’m scared and sad. Things don’t get better when something bad has happened to you, life just goes on.

    So don’t worry about lying to me because I know that life for you has been shithouse. Cry, it might not make you feel better but at least you know you are doing it for you.


  2. Crying doesn’t make me uncomfortable. It tells me that you are comfortable enough to do it and maybe I’m not completely useless at this friend business.

    And shithouse describes the situation perfectly.


  3. Completely get how you feel. I am the same. I tried hard not to cry after losing Orson, especially around M. Didn’t want him to see how upset I was. It was very hard to pretend.

    I have set up a facebook group for pprom loss mothers. There are about 28 members. It is called Afterwards. Look for a link on the uk babycentre pprom group if you want to join.

    Take care


  4. Agree totally – I think the “suffering in quiet desperation” is crap and quite unhealthy. Let it out – scream if you have to. You have the right.


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