No matter how many other Grieving Moms you talk to, and how many books you read. Nothing prepares you for the days of deep despair and depression that grips you. The days that I miss Connor so much that everything makes me sad, everything reminds me of him, and the tragedy that changed our lives forever. When the accident happened this sorrow, despair and sadness was an everyday occurrence. I carried a box of Kleenex with me every where I went. I tried to just go to work, and then home. I was honestly afraid that if someone asked me how I was I would fall apart.
I soon learned that I couldn’t control my emotions like I used to. I used to be able to put on the happy face and run into Big Y and grab a head of lettuce. Make small talk with the people in the checkout and be on my way. Those days are long gone, now it is a production, can I put sunglasses on, are there cars in the parking lot I recognize, do I really need the butter, or can I just substitute the olive oil I have at home, why doesn’t Big Y have a damn drive thru?
I wish I could say that I was as strong as I looked, but recently I had to admit that the control I thought I had was as fragile as a spider web. Depression and the treatment for it isn’t dirty words, despite what Tom Cruise or his precious Scientology may believe. Depression is a byproduct of the sadness and grief that results from the loss of our children. It will take time, work and medication to get through this.