A couple of weeks ago the stress of losing Mali coupled with life in general broke my spirit.
I checked myself into the behavioral health unit as an inpatient. Mostly out of self preservation. I was really thinking many seriously unsettling thoughts.
I was so preoccupied with denial my child was gone, I wanted to join her by any means available.
This is really hosed up. Here I am, a relatively stable person, family and friends who love me. I did not have any real socioeconomic problems. Educated, fantastic job, roof over my head, two car middle class family. Devoted to my faith, and family, helping others more needy than me. You get the picture.
I wanted to die. Some days I still flirt with the idea. I checked myself into the hospital because even in the fog, confusion and unrealness of my life I knew in my heart I was about to do something really bad to myself.
I went from being an inpatient (which by the way, did not work out too well for me. Not used to having my wings clipped and being told when to eat, use the bathroom, given medication, etc) to being in the partial hospital program that is offered at my local behavioral health hospital.
This is when I was able to have help really dissecting what happened to my daughter and to me during this grief period. The program is hard. You have a to take a good hard look at yourself and with honesty and compassion look at the thought processes that cloud your brain and reframe the way you think about things.
When your grief and suffering are so unmanageable, unrealistic expectations take root in your brain and grow like weeds. Like killing myself will solve my problem. My daughter just did that. I did not want to put my family or friends through that again.
I find myself thinking, when I read what I’ve written, as slightly pretentious. There are a lot of people out there that don’t have the opportunity to take the route I did or may not feel the same way I do.
Everyone’s grieving process is different. Grief is different for everyone. There is no level of loss that is more important than another’s.
So back to the title of this small chapter. Everyday is a series of small encounters with people and situations. You can choose what you make of it. It’s life. Try not to overthink it or over dramatize it. Be kind to each other and love as much as you can. Losing someone can unexpectedly happen. That is life or at least a part of it.