I thought this when my son started misusing substances and when I found out he was addicted to heroin. I thought this before I went to bed after news of my son’s suicide. And there were other times in between where I just didn’t want to be the one who had to make a difficult decision and wished a fairy Godmother would sprinkle pixie dust and make it all better.
But the night he died, I so wanted to get out of having to grieve the loss of my child. Wasn’t there a detour I could take? And escape hatch somewhere? Couldn’t I slip out of this skin and into another life that was shinier and happier?
I did not want to do grief. But despite my unwillingness to do what couldn’t be changed, life lurched forward in fits and starts, much of which I spent numb, on my knees, or with my hand pulling tissues out of a box.
Seeing a way forward was foggy and uncertain, and the amount of work it would take to find healing was daunting, unyielding, and overwhelming. The desire to skip forward or backward for a redo was always on my mind. Until I resolved that this wasn’t possible. I had to cope without seeing a path ahead.
The magic pixie dust never appeared nor the Godmother that came with it. And through the work that happened, emerged a new person. I kinda like her. 🙂
You know by now, my life did move forward and emotional healing did happen.
There are times we don’t want to face monumental, devastating pain and even that’s a coping mechanism that gives us a pause that allows us to accept what’s happened.