Life lessons at the 2 year mark

 

I used to think I was one of the untouchables. If I just do things mainly by the book and follow the plans my parents had set out for me then I would lead a simple yet happy life. If there’s anything I’ve learned these last few years, it’s that no one is untouchable. The most horrific thing just might touch your life. Before allowing that trauma and grief to swallow you whole, it is so very important to reach out to those around you, and ask for the support that you need and deserve. 

I was given the challenge of writing what I’ve learned as a bereaved mother these last two gut wrenching years. It’s hard to know where to even begin, as that is such a loaded task. Not only have I lost my sweet Bridget, but both of my parents as well. Literally the worst 2 years of my life. A comment that is made quite frequently in circumstances where a person is grieving is that they are so “strong”. I know I’ve even used this term in the past. It’s meant to build the person up as you admire their resiliency throughout that  difficult time. However, they never chose to be in that position. I never chose to walk THIS walk. Instead, one of my friends and I call it surviving. “You SURVIVED another day”. 

“You are really doing this, please continue to survive”. It draws the attention to the fact that the person grieving is actively putting one foot in front of another, sometimes not even wanting to do that, to continue to travel that dangerous and bumpy road while dealing with all of the aftermath of grief. I’m not strong. I’m surviving the worst. I have no choice but to continue trying to push forward with the help of family, amazing friends, and a team of people I owe my life to. So lesson number one…choose your words carefully and with intention. 

To piggyback off that last lesson, I’ve learned that there is no healthy way to trudge through grief alone…even if you THINK you can do it on your own. I mistakenly assumed that I would “bother” or “overwhelm” others if I asked for help. The repercussions of that could have been fatal. I suffered in silence far too long until reaching out for guidance and support. Family and friends are there because they WANT to and CHOOSE to be. Don’t take them for granted in difficult times.

The third lesson, and perhaps the one that means the most to me, is to say the persons name often. I got into the mindset that if I spoke Bridget’s name or shared memories of her that I would be seen as a crazy bereaved mom who is stuck in neutral. But through lots and lots of therapy, I’ve realized that this is perfectly healthy, and Bridget’s name deserves to continue to be spoken often. My children love talking about their sister. Michael and I enjoy reminiscing about our firstborn. And I’m letting go of the fear that I may make someone uncomfortable by continuing to share about my daughter. She will always continue to hold vibrant space here with us.

The final lesson I’ve learned so far, and am working hard on in myself, is to give myself grace. For the last two years, I have struggled with realizing that I can still find joy and happiness through all of the trials and tribulations. This one is tough. I have beat myself up over and over with this last lesson. I know that it appears simple, to continue on in support of your loved one’s legacy and memory. However, as a mother, I felt like I was hurting Bridget in searching for that light. It felt cruel. How could a mother joke and laugh when her child is no longer with her!? How could I be so selfish and careless? 

Of course everyone that I speak to says it is normal to find small wins in happiness…but it just did not sit right with me. I would rehash my day and almost punish myself for finding a moment of delight or not thinking of Bridget every single moment. And I am slowly coming to terms with the fact that it is going to continue to be a process throughout the rest of my life. I know how I feel towards my family and friends who have gone through challenging things…so why not give myself the same grace that I would give to them? 

Obviously, I will continue to focus on these lessons as time travels on. I know I will stumble across some OK days, and topple into some heart wrenching ones too. But my hope is that if I continue to put in the work (the beautiful, painful, sometimes challenging work) that this grief will no longer have the chokehold on me that it currently does. 

So thank you. Thank you for continuing this journey with us. Thank you to Bridget for being the absolute BEST human ever and shining her light (still) on everyone who learns her story. Thank you to my family, who have loved me in every stage of grief and continue to do so. Thank you to my friends who have supported me through something I didn’t think I could survive. And thank you to the people who are working tirelessly to help me to grow, challenge my brain, and find hope (you know who you are).