This quote resonated deeply with me:
“Our lives may be determined less by past events than by the way we remember them.” – Catherine Ann Jones
I feel my children have been rewriting the narrative of their lives and of our family.
Consequently, it’s changed the way they feel about me and the way they relate to me.
Or in this case, the way they don’t relate to me.
Sigh.
Every time … but it never is.
Every time a car slows by the house,
I run to see if it’s you.
Anytime my phone rings,
I hope it’s you.
When Facebook says I have a message,
I pray it’s you.
But it’s never your car.
Never your call.
Never your message.
Every time … but it never is.
But it is always … sadness.
Always pain.
Always grief.
Always tears.
And every time …
it is always
alone.
I thought I’d take some time to practice mindfulness in the midst of one of my more difficult moments today being overwhelmed with grief. I’ve been having quite a few of these overwhelming moments this week. I focused on what my body was doing and took inventory of my bodily reaction to the current bout of emotional turmoil.
Here’s the list I came up with from today’s grief event and things I remember from others (I’m sure there’s more):
And when this happens, all I want to do is crawl into bed and sleep … for a thousand years.
One benefit of mindfully taking stock of my body’s reactions, allowed me to make other choices to help myself feel better. When I noticed my clenched teeth, I made an effort to relax my jaw. When I noticed muscles that were being held tightly, I took some time to focus on releasing those muscles as much as I could.
It didn’t take care of everything, but it made a small difference in how I was coping. A small difference right now can be the difference between life and another stay in the hospital on Suicide Watch.
This has been a bad, bad week.
I’m currently working my way through the book, Done with the Crying: Help and Healing for Mothers of Estranged Adult Children, by Sheri McGregor, MA and sharing my thoughts and responses as posts on this blog.
In the first part of the latest section I read in the book, McGregor suggests that parents experiencing estrangement from adult children shouldn’t be hasty in making major life decisions. I believe this is much like the counsel that’s often offered after someone experiences the death of a loved one: Don’t make major changes like quitting a job, or moving, or beginning a new relationship, or getting a new pet. Anything that would have long reaching repercussions should be delayed until the initial shock and pain dissipate.
McGregor says that in the early weeks following an estrangement, many parents — if they sought professional counseling — would be quickly diagnosed with Acute Stress Disorder (ASD). ASD occurs in the first weeks following a traumatic event or major loss. Being suddenly estranged from an adult child (or children) definitely constitutes a personal trauma and loss.
As I thought about my own early days following the estrangement, I experienced the following ASD symptoms:
During the first few weeks, whenever I attempted telling someone what was happening with my children, I would experience an anxiety attack. My heart would race, I would start shaking visibly, I would stutter severely (if I could get words out at all), and I would feel like I couldn’t breathe. Writing it down doesn’t sound so bad, but what I experienced was truly debilitating. It was almost like I’d seize up into a shaking, quivering, crying, stuttering, gasping ball of grief and shock.
It was awful. Truly awful.
McGregor also states that in the aftermath of a trauma people tend to do one of two things. They reach out to others for support, or they retreat off by themselves. She compared the people who retreat to someone with a bad burn who would avoid others to avoid being jostled and causing the pain to worsen. She said neither reaction is right or wrong. Both reactions are normal and understandable. Sometimes a person may switch back and forth between the two reactions.
I did both. I reached out to people (my counselor, my pastor, a good friend), but I also retreated into my home where I could cry and shake and emote without fear or embarrassment. I definitely felt as if my pain could be intensified by the jostling of well meaning people and their often unhelpful and unintentionally hurtful comments or reactions.
And the fact that the initial weeks of my estrangement from my children happened at the beginning of the holiday season didn’t help. Acute Stress Disorder and the holidays don’t mix well, I discovered. Probably had a lot to do with why I ended up in the hospital on Suicide Watch over New Year’s.
Photo courtesy of Morguefile – http://mrg.bz/16f001
I’m currently working my way through the book, Done with the Crying: Help and Healing for Mothers of Estranged Adult Children, by Sheri McGregor, MA and sharing my thoughts and responses as posts on this blog.
In her book, McGregor suggests writing down things the estranged parent can do to help themselves that are specific to their situation. So here’s my list.
Ways I Can Help Myself:
The Estranged Mom 