Through it

 Another year has passed since learning of my mom's demise.  I thought things would be easier but instead, they are slightly harder.  For the first time, I am sitting with my feelings instead of "moving on."  

Having experienced trauma at such a young age meant having to find ways to cope with it as the years flew by.  Coping looks different for everyone.  For some, it means engaging in risky behaviors.  For others, it can mean becoming overly aggressive.  Yet for others it can mean isolating from society.  Oftentimes, we find more than one mechanism.  For me, my main coping mechanism was distancing myself from the feelings associated with the trauma, in essence distancing myself from me.  

Throughout the years, I became adept at recounting my past as a laundry list.  I barely paused as I went from one trauma to the next. 

• I was raped at 7 years old.
• My mom became addicted to drugs and we moved in with my aunt.
• We were forced into foster care when I was 10.
• The last time I saw my mom I was 10.  No one knows what happened to her.

I would sum up parts of my childhood in less than 5 minutes.  After I recounted my list, I would nod and say, that's what's happened to me, and I have moved on.  I survived all of that trauma and I am living my life now.  I was proud of myself for being able to "get over so much."  I mean, I had some trauma but there were people out there who had it so much worse than I did.  

The first time that I was made to stop after recounting my "list" was in 2009.  I was doing a therapy intake and telling the therapist my past.  When I finished, she took a deep breath and said, "whoa.  That's a lot."  her pause made me pause.  She was the first one who acknowledged that I had been through a lot.  In doing so, she forced me to do the same.  That started my therapy journey.  Although that was over 15 years and 2 therapists ago, the distance remained.  I just couldn't or wouldn't bridge the gap.   

When my grandmother passed away in 2021, I knew I was going to need help to get through the grief and began therapy again.  When reviewing what I wanted out of therapy with the new therapist, I realized that I wanted to reconnect with my younger self.  I wanted to befriend my little girl and give her a hug, similar to that scene in Drop Dead Fred.  I shared this with the new therapist and hoped I would make the progress that I was desperately seeking.  I was hoping that progress would be fast coming but alas, it was not.  

I have had many an "a-ha" moment in therapy since I started in January 2022.  Little things that improved my everyday life but I still struggle with some of the bigger issues.  When I found out what happened to my mom, I thought, this is it.  I am finally going to confront my issues.  I am ready.  But I was not.  In many ways, when it came to my mom, I was still the 10 year old child missing her mom.  Once again, I could not or would not allow myself to really grieve the loss.  I mean, she had been missing for over 30 years, I had grown accustomed to not having her in my life.  Now it was just permanent.  

I expected a flood of tears after learning of her fate but they did not come.  I shed a few on the day her identity was confirmed.  I cried a bucket load on the day we buried her ashes and may be on a couple of other occasions.  Not even visiting her grave, would I really feel like crying.  This lack of expression frustrated me.  How could I not cry for this woman I loved so much?  Where was my grief?   What is wrong with me?  No matter how often my therapist would explain that crying was only part of the grief, it's the only part I was fixated on.  I wanted to cry and feel the relief that often comes from a good crying session.  

As I continued going to therapy and making other strides, it started to make sense to me.  Of course I couldn't grieve for her.  For over 30 years, I only really allowed myself to think of her in the month of May.  I didn't allow myself to really think of her any other time because it was too much.  Too much pain.  Too much heartbreak.  Too much loss.  Just too much.  In order to really grieve for her, I have to allow myself to think of her.  I have to sit with my memories and bring her back in my life.  Great, that should be easy to do. 

Wrong again.  Thinking of her and bringing her back into my everyday life was HARD.  I had gotten very good at redirecting my thoughts when they would land on her.  To actually force my thoughts to remain with her felt uncomfortable and unnatural for me.  But as my therapist constantly points out, I cannot cheat the process.  I have to go through the process and sit with the discomfort.  I joked with him that I wanted a magic pill that would make everything better.  I mean I had lived through it, wasn't that enough?  Isn't surviving enough?  I didn't cause the trauma, why do I have to put in the work to get over it?  However, I now recognize that I cannot get through the pain without going through it.  I have to go through it, so that I can grow through it and get through it.  I am ready to go through it.  

I woke up today with a heavy heart.  My thoughts were on my mom.  But I didn't put on music to get over it or try to distract myself with other thoughts.  I acknowledged that it is sad day.  There is a reason for that sadness and it is valid.  When I went to the cemetery, I talked to my mom.  I apologized for all of the anger and bitterness I felt when I felt abandoned by her.  I told her how much I love her and how proud I am that she was my mom.  For the first time, when I was leaving, I was overcome with emotions.  I sat in the car for a few minutes before leaving to see if the tears would come.  I wasn't going to run this time or try to move past the feeling.  I didn't cry but my eyes did get misty, and I was able to sit with the feelings. 

I know that I have a way to go.  After all, I can't overcome 30+ years in a short time but for the first time in a long time, I really feel I am on my way.  I am ready to go through the pain so that I can grow through the pain and get through the pain.   

I will always miss my mom, and I will always love her.  There may even always be sadness but that isn't a bad thing.  It's an expression of that love and longing for my mother.  

As always, thank you for reading and take care.