I knew there were seasons of grief, but I didn’t expect it to be such a roller coaster, and I certainly didn’t expect to be feeling the loss of my dad in the worst of ways over 4 years later. I truly find it harder to deal with his death now than when it actually happened. I was so sad when it happened, but found peace in all of it through my faith in God. However, the aftermath that ensued with difficult relationship struggles, ripple through my life to this day.
I am angry. Really angry. I’ve had a hard time the last 2 anniversaries of my dad’s death. I don’t want to acknowledge April 21st at all because I am mad at how he died. I’m not mad at God, I’m not mad at my dad…I’m just mad at the whole situation. Maybe that doesn’t even make sense, but it’s how I feel.
Off to Therapy I Go
I have been far too focused on the bad things, off and on, for the last year and I am letting other people influence me in a negative way. I know this isn’t normal, I don’t like feeling this way, and I need help to process things. It’s not only dad’s death that has impacted me like this, it was his illness before he died that was far worse. I tried my hand at Al-Anon (it’s basically an Alcoholic’s Anonymous support group for their non-alcoholic family members), but it didn’t feel like a right fit for me.
I had a traumatic event at work a few weeks ago with the sudden and tragic loss of a patient. Even though I (intentionally) didn’t have hands-on care with the patient, as there were more than enough ER support and EMS crew there, as the nurse, I had to be there afterwards. It was my job to deal with the aftermath of such a tragedy. To listen to family members crying, to see some walking around aimlessly and quite obviously in shock, to be there to support them and to guide them. To make coffee at 4 in the morning. To respectfully take care of this person that went home to the Lord too soon.
I have dealt with death many, many times throughout my career, but never quite like this. I have never cried at work until that night. I had to sneak away to the bathroom a few times to quietly shed some tears. I couldn’t help but to personalize it and picture something like that happening to my family.
I’ve had mild problems with anxiety and one panic attack in my life, but it’s been nothing I cannot handle on my own. I am not better than anyone, or above taking medicine, but it doesn’t happen often enough (thank The Lord), for me to feel the need to seek chemical intervention.
I still trust in the Lord with all my heart, and I know that I will get through this and be able to handle it. But I also recognize that just praying isn’t good enough anymore. I won’t stop praying and I don’t resent it or think it doesn’t work, but I feel called to try therapy. I need to talk to a professional about my life in the last 5+ years.
In church on Father’s Day, I couldn’t pay as much attention as I wanted to with Jonathan in the nursery, but the sermon was on Psalm 13. I have felt so lost lately and I needed to feel something from God so desperately, and he delivered.
1 How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
2 How long must I wrestle with my thoughts
and day after day have sorrow in my heart?
How long will my enemy triumph over me?
3 Look on me and answer, Lord my God.
Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death,
4 and my enemy will say, “I have overcome him,”
and my foes will rejoice when I fall.
5 But I trust in your unfailing love;
my heart rejoices in your salvation.
6 I will sing the Lord’s praise,
for he has been good to me.
This is me to a T. My logical brain knows that God will never forget me and that He will always love me, but I am struggling and wrestling with my thoughts and sorrow in my heart. I am praying that therapy will shed light and provide some clarity and give me the skills I need to move though all of this.