Oceans of tears

I have been home from Florida about 24 hours. I went there to reflect, process and possibly heal a little from the trauma of losing my Cate Pearl. It’s been almost two months since her accident. Everything is split into before and after. Even my 7 year old daughter refers to events as before/after. I’m not sure what I expected. I did have plenty of alone time. Cried an ocean of tears and left them in the Gulf of Mexico. I met and found comfort in a group of wonderful women who were likewise grieving for their own loved owns. When I got home I was hit very hard by the reality of my loss. But I have tried to do all the right things. Seek therapy. Psychiatric treatment. Alone time to process what happened. Pour time and energy into charities that Cate would want me to. So can I have her back now? Haven’t I suffered enough? Comfort eludes me. 

But I am not hopeless. Maybe that is my problem. I have always been hopelessly optimistic. Right after Cates accident I was determined to write and deliver the perfect eulogy. I had to. I owed it to her. At the time I didn’t know what I now know. That pretty much everyone everywhere already knew how amazing she is. But it was therapeutic for me to write it and inexplicably I was able to deliver it. But I need you all to know that I could not do the same today. Reality and grief have crept in and replaced the purpose I once felt. It is much harder to find the denial and detachment that allowed me to function a month ago. I tell you all of this for specific reasons. First of all, everyone handles grief differently. Only today do I understand why people told me that I shouldn’t or couldn’t deliver her eulogy at the memorial. Secondly, I could really not care less about politics right now. But the images I see of children being separated from their families at the border make my PTSD flare up. I am in no position to offer up better solutions. I only know that these children will suffer long term trauma from their experiences. I take my 7 year old daughter to see a therapist once a week in hopes that she can recover from the trauma and pain of what she experienced on April 21st. David and I encourage her to talk openly about her feelings and what she saw on the turnpike that day. It is impossible to express how painful it is to watch my baby go through this. And I know that it’s different but trauma is trauma and I believe that we should do whatever it takes to reduce the trauma and stress and these children are going through. Beginning with not separating them from their parents. 

Finally, I have found that when these events happen to you, the mental health professionals are well equipped to help us through the trauma, grief, depression. All of it. No one can make me whole again. I know that. And my MH team has made this clear. But they can and have helped me navigate this hell so that I can function. If it’s only barely functional for now, I know that they are there and willing to do everything in their power to take the edge off. I want everyone to know that help is available. If you can’t find it message me and I will help you. No one should have to try to get through these things alone.