Wednesday, July 19, 2017
Many people have offered their advice over the past few years. Much of that advice was suggestions to see a grief counselor. I'm not against I had an appointment today at Kinder-mourn. The appointment was made out of shear desperation. Days on end of churning at the bottom of an ocean of grief after a random wave knocked me down. I just couldn't pull myself up, couldn't get up off my knees. I was so tired of feeling so...defeated. So I caved, and called to make an appointment with a grief counselor, and breathed through the next 7 days.
The counselor was very nice, and knowledgable. She told me about their services, and then listened to me tell her why I was there.
I told her about BJ. I started with his diagnosis, told her about his relapse, and the remaining few months of his life. I told her how connected we were, and how great he was. In 40 minutes, I sobbed through the story of how hard we fought, how we all 3 lived at Levine, how Carly accepted me giving all I had to BJ, how we celebrated BJ's birthday, and how we watched him die the next day. I talked about my struggling marriage, my inability to go back to my career, and my lack of motivation or energy for much of anything.
All normal, she said. She was very sweet, very understanding. She went through some handouts for grieving adults, and then the paperwork on grieving children. It all felt almost robotic...like I was just one more sad story in an ocean of sad stories.
This is an ocean in which I'm drowning. She just threw me a rope and walked off.