Oh, Grief Biscuits

My middle schooler mostly watches teen drama/murder mystery/Korean pop star satan pursuers/reality dating, but when they want to have a good TV-based detox for the soul, they watch Bluey. And the dad, when he needs to swear, says, "Oh, Biscuits." (<-- That links to a compilation of Bandit saying, "Oh, Biscuits." You're welcome. It's delightful.)

ANYWAY.

Today I went to my first session with a grief counselor at a grief palace. It's a program that deals exclusively with loss and trauma and has been operating out of this big old mansion- with stained glass and sweeping staircases and backup servant staircases- for fifty years. There are posters saying things like, "Grief never leaves, but you can learn to turn into the waves of it instead of letting them drown you." I like that.

I went because a friend at work recently lost an adult sibling and she recommended I read the book, "Always a Sibling: The Forgotten Mourners Guide to Grief," and it kinda broke me open. Other people feel that way, too? Turns out, it's pretty common to suspend your own feelings as a sibling in order to help your younger sibs or parents get through theirs. It's normal to become reliable and obedient and easy to make it simple for the family and then later end up feeling lost and bitter and not sure how to get what you need in relationships.

Huh. Interesting.

My friend also recommended I check out this grief program, so here I am.

"What brings you here today?" the intake person asked.

And then I listed all my deaths.

And I count them off on my fingers, easily making it across my second hand.

And I am shrugging and insisting that some people's deaths are worse.

And it's been thirty years since my big one

And I'm still standing

And so I'm probably fine, right?

And still, I don't feel fine, you know? I don't FEEL OK?

And maybe I tend to just be OK even when I'm really not.

And maybe I'm always ready to listen to and help other people

And don't ever really talk or ask for help for me.

And maybe I'm not OK with that anymore?

And maybe not dealing with this is keeping me stuck and scared.

And maybe I don't know how to care for myself.

And like I look at my grief, at my feelings, at my needs, as crumbs instead of a whole-ass biscuit....oh, grief biscuits.

And so, I'm here to grieve today, please, ma'am.

The first thing she said was, "We know two things are true for everyone healing from grief and trauma."

1. You have to tell YOUR story.

2. It has to be witnessed.

So here I go.