Pull the purse out of the trash

I found my favorite hairbrush yesterday and felt so relieved to have it back in its proper place that I did not even stop to wonder how it got in with the cleaning supplies.

The stopping and wondering part came just about an hour ago when I returned from errands. I removed my slurpy shoes, held on to the junk mail, let the pups outside, put my purse in the kitchen trash, and caught myself as I headed for the coat closet. The mixed-up life of those in the throes of trauma includes wearing contact lenses in the wrong eyes, attending an event and realizing the outfit choice does not really fit the occasion, and throwing a purse in the trash – I must admit, for the second time.

Of course, my daughter and husband would tell you that I have been committing such foibles for a very long time, but trauma does give one a heightened sense of absentmindedness. Adversity renders one unable to think clearly, make decisions, and remember details. It feels like walking with fog all around, but the others do not experience the same fog. Roger and I have avoided making life decisions as best we can until next fall. We have actually granted ourselves permission to give our minds time to rest in the aftermath.

We grieve actively and passively and fully accept this aspect of our lives. My toothbrush came up missing recently until I found it later on the mantel piece. But one thing we do not give ourselves permission to do and that is accept victimization. We are survivors of the death of our child – one of life’s worst blows, but we are not victims. I picked up a book at the library and started it today titled Back to Life by Alicia Salzer, a psychiatrist who worked with survivors of the September 11 tragedy.

Ruminating on the event of trauma itself does not necessarily help one to overcome the pain. Salzer writes that for many years therapists were trained to have victims share and relive their stories over and over to be in better touch with their feelings and uproot buried issues. Grieving, I have found to be about as personal a thing as choosing a toothbrush color – and remembering to keep it in the bathroom. Some people need to relive traumatic events, others do not. This author validates both approaches, as what is right for one can be wrong for another. I tend to be a waffler. I talk about my son’s passing some times, but at others, I just cannot approach the subject.

Resilient survivors choose to have an overall outlook of optimism that allows them to thrive. When we think in the positive, it allows us to see light on the other side of the pain. Optimism does not take away pain. Pain is part of the process, but to look for a hopeful outcome separates survivorship from victimization.

I made a difficult phone call this week to a grandmother who recently lost a granddaughter about Nick’s age. We had so much to share, and I found myself encouraging her that each passing month is a little bit better than the one before it. I have not gone the distance on this journey, but can see that healing is already starting to take place. We were able to share the similarities of our situations and hearing her very raw, new pain gave me a chance to look back and see that time does help – it gives perspective. When setbacks occur, and they do, the time helps me think back to moments when I could power through the pain and feel peace.

As far as my purse, toothbrush, hairbrush, and more… they are just things that surface eventually, and I am glad it is not trash day. I fed the dogs the right food in the correct bowls this evening, and Roger a different food, so I am moving in the right direction.