Dealing effectively with grief is the best new beginning. ~ the Grief Recovery Institute
This is my story.
The early years were rough. My twenties were spent figuring out how to care for and like myself, take care of my sons as a single mother, create a career and be in a healthy relationship. With a lot of hard work, I entered my thirties in pretty good shape. I married a second time in 1996. By my mid-thirties, I was in a strong marriage going on five years and our blended family was working out well. Combined, my husband and I had three beautiful, very active boys. They were all athletic playing baseball, football, and soccer. We had found a rhythm managing activities while still being able to advance our careers in Technology. As busy as we were, we still had amazing times together as a couple. My life felt better than ever before.
It all crashed in January of 2001 when my oldest son, at fifteen, was diagnosed with a rare neuro-genetic disease (Metachromatic Leukodystrophy). There was no cure, meaning over time my son would progress into a vegetative state. I was devastated and in a nightmare thinking about how I might outlive my first-born son. Life, as I knew it, was over.
The next fourteen months were a world-wind. After working through options, my son and I moved to Minnesota, leaving the rest of the family in Texas, so that he could undergo stem-cell transplant. The transplant was suppose to slow the progression of the disease and buy time. With no cure, we needed time. It didn’t work out. Eight months post transplant, complications took my son’s life. By his side, April 1, 2003, I watched my son take his last breath.
Some people say a chapter ends so another can start. I felt a door slam and was scared that another would never open. I didn’t know what to do or how to go about doing it. Aside from my son being gone, there was the overwhelming emotional pain. How was one to live out the rest of their lives in so much pain? I was told, I would heal with time and eventually adjust to a “new” normal.
Over the next few years, I read books, went to therapists, and attended support groups but it wasn’t enough. They were not all in vain. Therapy helped me to shift how I thought about some things which was helpful. Support groups helped me feel less alone, but it also felt like I was watching people relive their losses over and over. As far as I could see, there was no help and no way to recover from losing my son. At the end of the day, my son was gone and it continually affected me. I learned to act as if I was fine.
Twelve years after my son died, I was introduced to the Grief Recovery Method®. Within a week of completion, I felt like a ton of bricks had been lifted. I felt happier, more resolved, less haunted and began remembering more of the good stuff. The profound impact the program had on me is why I immediately invested in becoming a certified specialist myself. I don’t want anyone to carry the pain as long as I did.
Learning to heal my own past is how I help others. If a loss is new or decades old and you know there is more to life than simply surviving, click here.
You have nothing to lose and everything to gain by learning more.