It’s the helplessness

After Charles died, helplessness and I had a come-to-Jesus moment. I couldn’t make it budge, reverse engineer it, or even make it change its mind.

It stood stubbornly in its place reminding me that I couldn’t change the outcome. That I was a victim to the emotion to which I was now facing. I didn’t want to do grief. I wanted to back out of it. But it swept me away anyway. I had no choice.

Helplessness and I first met when a loved one started using drugs and alcohol as a teen. I couldn’t stop it, change the course, and ultimately this person became addicted. He lost everything before he decided to get help. And when he did that, it didn’t go as planned.

How many times have I allowed my emotions to surf on someone else’s chaos?

Those of you caring for the child of your child because they can’t be a parent know exactly what I mean. As do those who love someone who doesn’t take their meds, who can’t pay their bills because of a gambling problem, or the one who relapses right after rehab and ends up dying. That’s when helplessness screams in your face and you have to adjust and adapt your own life because if someone else’s actions.

So yeah, helplessness and I know each other well. I don’t always love it but I have learned to accept it.

Published by

Anne Moss Rogers

I am an emotionally naked TEDx speaker, and author of the Book, Diary of a Broken Mind and co-author with Kim O'Brien PhD, LICSW of Emotionally Naked: A Teacher's Guide to Preventing Suicide and Recognizing Students at Risk. I raised two boys, Richard and Charles, and lost my younger son, Charles to substance use disorder and suicide on June 5, 2015. I help people foster a culture of connection to prevent suicide, reduce substance misuse and find life after loss. My motivational, training and workshop topics include suicide prevention, addiction, mental illness, coping strategies/resilience, and grief. As talented and funny as Charles was, letting other people know they matter was his greatest gift. And now the legacy I try and carry forward in my son's memory. Professional Speaker Website. Trained in ASIST and trainer for the evidence-based 4-hour training for everyone called safeTALK.

4 thoughts on “It’s the helplessness”

  1. I am raising my granddaughter after my husband took his own life and my daughter is unable to look after her. She is 2 1/2. I have helped raise her from the day she was born. I got full custody a year ago. Everything is so hard with COVID and so much else going on in my life. I feel like I have no support. I feel so lonely without Rob! I miss him so much!

    My son has his own problems. He just turned 18 and needs help but he won’t get it. He won’t take his meds. He won’t go to counselling (which is hard right now because of Coronavirus anyways.) I believe he has an eating disorder. He has severe anxiety and social anxiety. He left the house to go for a walk the other night. First time in about 9 months. I feel so helpless!

    I have had to adjust my life because of others’ actions – my son, my daughter but especially my husband.

    I am still trying to accept things. It is extremely difficult. It was June 23rd, 2018 when Rob took his own life. I am supposed to start seeing my old counsellor again in January. It will have to be over the phone or virtual, due to COVID. I wish life would just get back to as normal as possible, whatever that means, as soon as possible!

    1. Joyce- Oh my gosh. You really are incredible. Not only are you taking care of a child you raised but you are seeking support and help. I wish so badly I could give you a hug right now. Thank you so much for telling your story. It has given me so much to think about. It helps me to hear it, too. Because while my burdens (for lack of a better word) are not exactly the same, it’s nice to understand what others are facing as a result of their actions. Sometimes I just feel very overwhelmed. There is only so much one human can do.

  2. Anne Moss, no doubt there have been so many who have said they are sorry for your loss and I just wish I could say something different and fresh to ease your pain but tonight I can’t think of anything like that. I just wish you peace, at Christmas and always.

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