Control by definition according to the handy dandy Merriam Webster is: 1. the power to influence or direct people’s behavior or the course of events; 2.determine the behavior or supervise the running of. I joke now that I thought of myself as a “control freak” before Jesse and Bella died, but now, it is on a whole new level.  And not. 

Many of us are under the illusion that we are in control of things.  Take a tragedy though, and that illusion gets thrown out the window. Any parent knows that running an efficient household takes a bit of finesse and control.  Add a self-employed one from the east coast who is financially responsible for a household of four, that efficiency and control take on a whole new level.  When I came home on the night of May 8th, 2014 to find that Jesse’s brain had broke, that he killed our four year old daughter Maribella then himself, all sense of the control that I had thought I had went to the wayside. Time stood still.  At that point basic survival kicks in and the rational “thinking” mind leaves.  The brain and body have always amazed me.  When you are in true danger, the flight or fight mechanism is initiated.  You no longer think about the laundry that needs to be done, or the thing you forgot at the grocery store.  You don’t think, you want to survive, and that is where all the focus goes. This mechanism can go awry, especially after a trauma.  Your body often will get stuck in that fight or flight, and for example, for me, when a police car goes by with its siren, my body goes into that same reaction, even though that car is not coming to my house because of a phone call I had to make.

The weeks and months following their death, I had to let go of control. Help was necessary in the multitude of major decisions I had to make and things I needed to do. Instead of managing every one of those decisions, I had to say “yes, thank you” to all the wonderful help offered. That time is a fog in my head, I remember some things, but still have people say things to which my reaction is, really?  That happened?  Which is completely normal when you have experienced severe trauma. As time went by though, control and I got re-acquainted.

The previous version of control morphed.  Instead of a division of labor, all of it fell to me.  With my brain, body, and soul dealing with this devastating grief, my mind extremely forgetful, my body exhausted all the time, I had to regain “control” per se.  The control I now sought was of my time and what I did with it. I had to manage it to a tee because it was precious.  Precious for so many reasons. Gone were the days of just letting it go by, I had too much to do.  I had to run my business, take care of the dog, the house, and most importantly, my daughter, Raffi. And grieve.  I knew I only had  so much energy during the day so I packed them in.  I have never been one to stay up late anyways, and now, sleep is even more necessary.  And sadly quite precarious. The day to day things that I normally had enough energy for zapped me.  Still do. And, I constantly have background programs that are taking a lot out of me.  The grief never goes away.  The fight or flight mechanism is always engaged waiting for the next terrible thing to happen. Those in themselves will wary a person make. All this being said, a newer version of the control freak emerged. What emerged was an interesting balance of the above as well as a flip side. I started to “let go” of a lot of things that I would normally micro-manage and try and control. Things that used to bug me, didn’t.  You see, I had the most fucked up lesson in thinking that I had any control, and one I will never forget.

I remember thinking after Bella died, and I was packing Raffi’s lunch, that I used to be so controlling over their sugar intake.  I read all the studies and was determined to limit it as much as possible.  I remember making that lunch and breaking down in a heap of tears. I thought, fuck it, I am going to put a sweet something in this kids lunch for the rest of her days.  Life is too short, and I only could wish that I could have done certain things differently in some ways. It feels like a teeter totter most days.  I work on controlling as much as I can in my environment to stay “safe.” Work on controlling the time I have to keep up with my many responsibilities and take care of me as well.  At the same time, recognizing that the reality is I don’t have much in the way of control. I ask myself, is this thing that I am making a big deal out of really matter that much (the sugar example, not letting them have barely any)?  Can I be more flexible (I could have)?   I learned that it is indeed important to control some things (not letting them eat nothing but sugar) and not others(I think about how much sugar and crap I ate as a kid and I turned out sorta ok).  I have learned that you cannot control others and their choices or behaviors, that at the end of the day, the things that you so desperately hold onto (ie. tried to control) may slip right through your fingers, because life can be slippery like that.  This particular grief continues to be complicated and full of dichotomies.  I continue to work on being open to any learning that may come my way as well as take a lot (probably too much) time for self reflection. Within that thought process, I have learned to let go of so much (bullshit) and to prioritize and appreciate the time I have left, because really, what else is there.

The rare treat of ice cream, she was such a goof ball

Raffi gets a “sweet” everyday now