Any of my followers know that I don’t sugar coat the truth. It is what it is, this new normal isn’t pretty by any means. When Connor first died I tried to numb the pain with bottles. Bottles of Prosecco, Pinot Grigio and Chardonnay. It was a temporary fix, it temporarily dulled the pain. But when I woke up the next morning the ache was still there, with an added headache and sometimes some nausea.
It didn’t take me long to realize that this wasn’t the way to cope with my grief. What I needed was therapy, so I hauled my butt back to therapy, then to my PCP to get something to deal with the overwhelming grief.
After a few trial and errors with meds I think we have found the sweet spot. An anti depressant, a med to keep the nightmares at bay and a short acting anti anxiety for when I am too wired.
My one recent worry was I was becoming a walking embodiment of my grief. That it was becoming all consuming and all anyone saw when they saw me. One of my dear friends reminded me last night
Nah. You kick ass. Your fun to be with. Pretty. Wicked smart. Hilarious when you want to be. Loyal. Dedicated. And there’s a wild streak in you too. A wild side only your friends know.
Your straight up kick ass female.
So I am remembering that, I have been through hell, I am still less than 7 months into this new normal. My sparkle will return, but right now I am a little scuffed up and tarnished.