I went to my shrink yesterday (yes, he is okay with me saying that).  It had been awhile because of holidays, conflicting schedules and me seeing how I did with more time in between.  That last part is a first, up to this point I have been going anywhere from two times a week to every other.  At this point, he knows me pretty well after almost three years.  I made a commitment to myself, my family and friends after Jesse and Bella died, to be brutally honest in where I was, so that I could survive.

The stats on someone like me, a survivor of a murder-suicide are not pleasant to look at.  The risk of me dying by suicide in the immediate year after are staggering.  It is still really high and will be for the rest of my life.  I knew enough to make sure that I did not keep my feelings bottled up inside.  Often times when we do that, the stories we create get out of control, and we can go flying down the rabbit hole with no way out of the pain and desperation you can find yourself in.  I have learned in these almost three years when it is okay to be alone with certain feelings and when it isn’t.  I have ridden on that edge a couple of times and scared the shit out of myself. My counselor knows now not to ask the question “do you feel like harming yourself,” instead it is “how bad has it been?” You do not experience what I have without those thoughts running through your head on a daily basis. He asked me this yesterday, and I paused. Less, I answered cautiously. This is after we discussed my new-ish relationship and everything around that. Mostly my fears, and god knows there are a lot for all the reasons that make sense. Less. This answer was a first. Usually I am tripping over the above thoughts throughout my day here and there unexpectedly.  Sometimes it was a true fight to get through the day alive. Luckily I had Raffi, who was my anchor.  She needed me and I could not do that to her.  But lately, I do not find myself tripping over those thoughts as much. I am busy living?!  Going to concerts, 80s dance nights, swing dance lessons, Timbers games (RCTID), then doing the Shamrock run.  That was just this past weekend. I have often said that I appreciate the fragility of life more than most. I often think that I will not live long, so I need to fit in as much as possible, especially with the appreciation I have.

We often will check in on the overall picture of progress. That is a tricky one. It makes me think of the movie Lilo and Stitch, where the alien comes out of the ocean after being attacked and says “tricky fish, tricky fish!!!”  Progress after the trauma I had is much like that, tricky and slippery.  What does progress mean? So many things is the answer.  On days that are wrought with PTSD, getting out of bed and making it through is progress. It can be discovering that you like to cook again. It can be going to a Timbers game and not having to take anxiety medication. It can be stopping to smell the flowers instead of not even seeing them through your pain.  It can be learning to accept and embrace joy and happiness when you never thought it was possible again. It can be tiny or big steps. My counselor asked me about flashbacks and their intensity.  That is one thing I have not made progress in.  Yes, they still happen everyday. The way I deal with it depends, the intensity depends, how my body responds, the same. I had a light bulb go off while we were talking about it.  That one may never get better, and I just have to accept that instead of fight it. Much like the diagnosis of depression, anxiety and PTSD.  They will be with me for the rest of my life, integrated into the core of my being from that fateful evening, May 8, 2014. It sucks. The depression I had on and off throughout my life.  The anxiety and PTSD, no. People often refer to those as the silent diseases. Walking by me on the street, you would not know if I am have having an anxiety attack, that I am doing everything in my power not to lay down and go into a fetal position. There is a meme that resonates every time I have seen it: Do not judge a person by what you see, you never know what fight they are fighting within.  That is not the exact quote, but close.

I often reflect (too much) and try to remember different points along the way of this journey of grief. It has been a roller coaster to say the least.  I am not naive anymore to think that even though I have been having so many wonderful things in my life right now, that those will eliminate those roller coasters. You don’t get that option with grief, especially the grief of your child. For instance, I know I am due for a on the floor Bella sob fest. Part of that acceptance thing.  That will never not be. I have stated time and time again that I wanted to live versus exist during this process.  Since I started being more active in public speaking and advocacy work, I have seen trickles of that living, purpose and passion.  I feel like more recently, this is starting to happen even more, and that is a progress I never thought I would live to see, and for that, I am grateful.

Flowers from my walk today