We are used to getting sick, going to the doctor and being prescribed a drug or treatment or even surgery and getting well (after some period of time).
But some things can’t be fixed and must simply be managed and endured.
Child loss is like that.
Read the rest here: https://thelifeididntchoose.com/2018/02/06/chronic-continuing-ceaseless-unabating/
No matter how a child leaves this earth, it’s traumatic.
And trauma rewires our brains.
The “fight or flight” response that had previously been reserved for truly life-threatening situations gets woven in with memories and feelings and our bodies remain on high alert.
So before we know it, all kinds of ordinary, daily, and definitely not life-threatening situations evoke rapid heartbeat, shortness of breath, anxiety and fear. And the absolutely reasonable response is to get away from those things that make us feel that way.
So we do (or try to!).
We find ourselves running away from people who love us, who want to help us but who just might not understand why we’re running. We cocoon in our homes, in our own bodies and try to find that one safe space where fear and anxiety can’t find us.
But there is no such absolutely safe space.
Trauma rewires our brains, it’s true.
They can be rewired again.
So many good therapies are available for those of us who suffer in silence. Many are based on using physical cues to help a brain learn to distinguish between truly dangerous and only the memory of dangerous.
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It is possible to venture out in the world again, to reach for and sustain connection, to lean into company instead of shying away.
Don’t stay hidden, afraid and alone.
Find a trained trauma counselor
Ask for help.
❤
We usually think of worship as songs of joy and happiness extolling the virtues of God and Christ.
While that is most certainly a form of worship, it is absolutely not the only one.
Biblical lament is an honest, vulnerable expression of pain, a crying out to God in faith as we are suffering.
― Cindee Snider Re
Worship is also the broken whimper of a scared and wounded child, crawling into the lap of her Abba Father.
There is no less adoration in this ultimate act of confident trust than in the most eloquent declaration of theological truth in word or song.
Lament is worship.
Read the rest here: https://thelifeididntchoose.com/2019/02/03/refuse-to-hide-lament-as-worship/
When I opened the door to that deputy and received the news, my world suddenly spiraled out of control.
Over the next days, weeks months I would have to do things I never imagined I might do and certainly things I did not WANT to do. So, so much I couldn’t change. So many ways I lost the right to choose.
And I hated it!
Wasn’t long and that sense of helplessness permeated every corner. Even when it didn’t belong there. I began to feel as if I couldn’t control anything.
So in many ways I stopped trying.
Read the rest here: https://thelifeididntchoose.com/2019/02/02/things-i-can-control/
I wrote this three years ago.
Even writing that makes my heart skip a beat! How can I be heading toward surviving six years after that fateful morning? It hardly seems possible and yet it’s true.
And some days I still find myself on the edge of despair, of anxiety attacks, of deep sorrow and darkness.
But not as often.
For that, I’m thankful.
❤ Melanie
Almost three years and here I am-
still on the edge.
On the edge of an anxiety attack.
On the edge of the cliff of deep sorrow and darkness that threatens to swallow every thing bright in my life.
Read the rest here: https://thelifeididntchoose.com/2017/02/02/on-the-edge/
While I certainly had no real idea in the first hours or even weeks what losing a child entailed, I understood plainly that it meant I would not have Dominic to see, hold or talk to.
I wouldn’t be able to hug his neck or telephone him.
He wouldn’t be sitting at my table any more.
But the death of a child or other loved one has a ripple effect. It impacts parts of life you might not expect. As time went on, I was introduced to a whole list of losses commonly called “secondary losses”.
Read the rest here: https://thelifeididntchoose.com/2019/02/01/child-loss-and-secondary-losses/
I’ve found myself in a bit of a writing funk these past weeks. Once January draws to a close (a short reprieve from surviving the holidays) the calendar barrels on to the anniversary of that fateful day.
This will be the sixth time I’ve weathered that period where I mark all the “lasts” and try to honor Dominic’s life and not only focus on his death.
For someone who used to be able to draw up a gameplan for any occasion, I am still out of my depth when it comes to commemorating the date of my son leaving for Heaven.
So I’m sharing this again-as much for me as for anyone else. It’s just plain hard. But I hope these ideas help another heart find a way through the minefield of remembering.
❤ Melanie
When your child is born you take notes.
You plan to mark this day as a special milestone for the rest of your life.
You absolutely, positively NEVER think you will have to mark another one: the day he or she leaves this life and leaves you behind.
But some parents have to mark both. The dash in the middle is shorter than we anticipated, and our child’s life ends before ours.
So how do you do it? How in the world do you observe the polar opposite of a birthday?
Read the rest here: Child Loss: Marking the Milestones
Death is winter.
Cold, hard, gray. Every lovely thing fallen and dry underfoot.
A season of rest-not chosen, unwelcome, resisted.
But rest just the same.
Yet the sun still shines and spreads warmth and light on even these bare branches.
Read the rest here:https://thelifeididntchoose.com/2018/01/30/winter-sunrise/
When Dominic ran ahead to heaven, I felt like I was physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually knocked to the floor. I had no idea how I was going to make a life after this great blow. I could barely get dressed, much less do anything that took more thought or energy than that.
I was overwhelmed. I had to learn to walk all over again.
And I did it with baby steps, in a judgement free-zone I created for myself where I refused to gauge my progress against anyone else’s.
Because baby steps count.
Read the rest here: Baby Steps Count
I get it-media is looking to sell papers, get hits and make money.
But I’m oh, so tired of the only names mentioned when tragedy strikes being ones that make good headlines.
Mr. Bryant was traveling to a youth basketball tournament with his 13-year-old daughter, Gianna, who was also killed in Sunday’s crash. Two of her teammates and their parents also died.
The NY TIMES, Morning Briefing
Kobe Bryant and his daughter were killed Sunday in a helicopter crash.
So were John Altobelli, his wife Keri and daughter Alyssa, Sarah Chester and daughter Payton, along with Christina Mauser and Ara Zobayan, the pilot.
No one survived.
Every family that lost a member in this awful accident will have to walk the Valley of the Shadow of Death. Money and fame don’t protect a heart from the pain, sorrow, despair and overwhelming darkness death brings with it.
But public focus on only the rich and famous can add to the burden when your family member is among the slain.
No life is more sacred than another life.
Every life matters.
thelifeididntchoose 