One of the grief counselors I saw after the accident was a wonderful soft spoken woman. She followed my children around the hospital as they were heartbroken and shocked and I was unavailable to soothe there little bodies and minds. She was what grief counselors are supposed to be. She was there. She was available. She was a place that allowed me to just be. Be broken. Be angry. Be sad. Be struck with the irony of life. Be a little crazy, or at least feel a little crazy. She would nod gently, agree with how terrible it all was. There was no judgement, no worry, no expectations, and no work to be done. She was like an old friend, but one who was not all invested in fixing me…like all of my friends and family at the time…she was just asking me to be.

When we see people we love break, we can’t help but offer words of comfort, words of wisdom, words that will attempt to bring that person back to the place we are used to them being. As the broken person you reel back, eyes blank, heart hard. You wonder, why do you think I can a be fixed? You ask yourself, how can everyone be so insensitive? They are just loving you, but you don’t want to be loved. Not like that.

That grief counselor did say to me, people often do some dramatic things to make themselves feel new after grief. They cut their hair and get tattoos. They move. Throw things away. Quit their jobs and change careers. She just said be kind to yourself if you decide to change. There is nothing wrong with those decisions, just think them through and the less permanent the better when you are so sensitive. She was right. Even so, I cut my hair and I have dyed it crazy colors even. I got the tattoo. I did some of the things we do dramatically. I have no regrets. It has refreshed me and reminded me of the things I like, the person I am. And it has been a slow process of regaining some control of this life. My life. Mine and the boys.

I really felt I needed a therapist to do the real work. And when I made it to that point…the work was well worth it and I was ready for it.

Becoming the new you after loss is not a step you take when you are in the darkness of grief. When all feels lost and the world won’t stop spinning, spinning…out of control. First you step into the place where you believe you are just going to be this broken, this aimless inside forever. You decide it will eventually be manageable to be this person. You tell your therapist you have accepted that your grief will never end and you will never be “normal” or happy again. They tell you, it will end and you will be happy again.

This is the difference between the grief counseling and the therapy. They don’t agree with you, they don’t hold your hand, they tell you, you will get there. They don’t mock you or shame you for where you are either. They validate the thoughts, the feelings of crazy, and then they tell you, you will rise. And you think…good luck, thats what everyone says…but then you do. You work, you think, you cry, you try, you quit trying, you try some more, and eventually you do. You rise from the ashes of what your personal hellfire has left behind. You start to see the freedom in walking away from being the person who is just managing this life, this level of pain, this walking trauma. You want to feel again, you want to see light again, you want to laugh and cry tears of joy again. You want….wanting is the first victory.

One day, a few months ago now, I sat on a stationary bike at the gym. Fresh from a run I was raging with energy and feelings that pour out as they sometimes do when we get the blood pumping. I turned the song on. The song was The Great Remember. An instrumental bluegrass tune, one we had listened to many times. I maybe even thought this would really give me the tear jerk I felt I needed. But as the banjo picked away, I was taken back. But not to the sad place where I thought I would go. The music ran deep into the memories I was riding away from. I peddled harder. I lifted my head that day at the gym. My face directed at a wall of screens, but eyes closed, I wasn’t there at all. I could feel the sunshine on the deck. I was back in the safe place, the happy place. I peddled even harder. I smiled just a little, then a little more. I wanted it back. I wanted the safe happy place. I wanted the sunshine on my face, the smile on my face. The peace and serenity of the day drifting into evening. The rustling of the bright green leaves on the surrounding trees. The soft warm summer breeze passing over my body, cooling the suns heat. The content of the heart. I peddled hard, as hard as my body would let me. I hugged my heart from the inside and lowered my chin. I wanted to be the me whose face smiled into the sunshine. I wanted that joy. I wanted. I smiled big and released the tight grip on my grief as the peddles slowed. The moment was a victory. This was my moment of want…

…And from there I rose.