This is what I struggle with everyday.
Coping with loss is a lot harder than I had ever imagined. You can follow all the steps your therapist told you to take, graciously accept the condolences, support and half-hearted advice your friends and family give you or if you're religious, you can pray to whomever and whatever you believe in for strength. The truth is, there's no real handbook when it comes to this stuff. There's no twelve step program for traumatic recovery. Every single person has a different past, present and future, so naturally everyone deals with things differently and in their own way. When you witness your own son dying before your eyes, it may be easy for others to tell you to move on, live on, keep the faith. This is very good advice, but of course like most things, it's easier said than done.
During my process, I've been fortunate to have a lot more better days than bad, and I owe a whole bunch of those better days to my better half. I'm actually doing real well in retrospect, for the most part. I've been enjoying New York, and my love will soon be joining me in this magical city. But when those bad days come along, they hit you like a ton of bricks on a snowy day in the desert. It gets uncomfortable, confusing and shocking. Things that might not have shaken you before are now considered close to the end of your world. The even worse thing is, you can't predict when they're going to come. How do you explain yourself when you start crying out of impulse, or when you suddenly become distant and introverted? This is what I continue to struggle with, and it is going to be something that I will have to endure for the rest of my life. It's just something I'm going to have to live with, and I fully understand and comprehend that fact. But, darling friends, do you understand?
I know I'm not alone. I'm working on surrounding myself with the right kind of people, and the right kind of energy. I'm embracing the people that accept me, and have always accepted me. So far I've been lucky to meet some great people. Since being with Mike, I've laughed a lot more, slept a lot more, been less self-destructive and more productive, which was the complete opposite of what I became after Arieson passed. I've been blessed with people who I never knew would become real close friends. I'm thankful for them, because right now, they are all I really have. My Arieson, my world, a tiny being that I invested all my love to unconditionally is no longer with us. Have you ever loved someone more than yourself? Then you might begin to feel where I'm coming from. I'm picking up the pieces, and with the help of my friends, I'm starting to have a clearer picture. I understand that I'll often times run into insensitive fucks, but when I do, I can't let those fools bring me down. You know what sucks? The two
very close friends people who laid in my bed next to me and my lifeless son on that cold summer night in June while waiting for the coroner to take my son's body away have chosen to dump me out of their lives, pretty much through the Internet. Why? Shit, I wish I knew. According to them, I'm "too needy" and "selfish." Forget about my dead son, forget about what I've been through, forget me from now on. I'm apparently an awful person. Fuck. That.
I just want you all to know, darling friends and distressing foes, that from now on, you're either with me or go fuck yourself. Sometimes I just wish some fools would just once put themselves in my shoes for just one fucking day, and quit revolving their lives around a safety net. I don't think I should be in any position in explaining myself. I may show a strong, experienced game face, but I'm as fragile as a newborn inside. The littlest things can crash my world, but I'm smart enough to surround myself with positivity and love, and leave all that negativity and hate somewhere else. If you'd rather go for the latter, then by all means stay where you are, and away from me.
Thanks for reading!