Joy, Sadness, Anger, Fear and Disgust.
All important roles in how our moods take us. Most importantly how we cope with things that change our lives, and almost break us.
Having seen the film, several times over now, I can understand the feeling of losing one's marbles.
My personality islands collapsed, the day she died. No warning, I couldn't stop them. Lost, forever.
For me, 4 years into this journey, I can associate myself with all 5 of the emotions. Some less than others.
Disgust, I guess how some parents take their precious children for granted. I feel disgusted in myself sometimes. When I have days, where I'm not quite coping. I shout, I snap. I somewhat alienate myself.
Fear. It goes without saying, the fear of not only losing my other children, but my husband, my friends. Fear paralyses me at times. I have to control it. It can take over, but it isn't allowed.
Anger. I don't get that raw anger very often any more. Because we should have had a different outcome, the anger was eating me, tearing me apart bit by bit, as if the bigger picture of our daughter dying wasn't enough, but the anger, drilling through my very being. Don't get me wrong, I get angry, really bloody angry at the whole having a dead child, I'm allowed, but it's far more contained. I'm lucky to have a husband who will let me release it, by talking, crying. It's not often any more.
Joy and Sadness.
Together? In the head of a bereaved mum.
As above I said my personality islands collapsed, fell silently away, as she died in our arms. There were no controls, no brakes. It happened.
I've had to start again.
New hobbies, new train of thought, new friendship circles, and how I spent my time with those friends, family. The shape of our family changed.
I never expected joy to be part of my emotions again, ever.
But I refuse to have Melody be the little blue person.
This time of year, I find just as hard as the part of the year my brain associates her with.
September to May. There is always something attached to her, from a positive pregnancy test, to her birth, her anniversary, discharge date and due date. I no longer make a big deal over the smaller dates, I always will for her birthday and anniversary. But they're all still related in some way.
So, when June arrives, it's like a strange come down. Every thing I do gets touched by sadness, core memory after core memory affected by sadness.
It shouldn't be. I've, we've been punished enough.
I do believe joy and sadness can coexist. There's a balance.
But people have to remember everyone grieves differently.
If I want to ball my eyes out 4 years after my daughter dying. I will. I don't need therapy or medicine.
But laughing doesn't mean I'm over her either.
I've found a good balance, albeit right or wrong. It is right for me.
Right now. I'm missing Melody. That will never change.
She is my bundle of joy, cuddled in a blanket of sadness.
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