Emotional Self-Preservation

Evie died over 3 1/2 years ago. We are now approaching that round of milestones from the time she fell ill, except now it is four years ago, not three. In that time, we have experienced a huge spectrum of emotions and feelings, and even now there are days when it is all too much. I just want it all to end. But ….. the biggest difference that I have noticed in myself is that I now have the mental capacity to protect myself from others. In the early days, I instinctively knew that if I wanted to be able to be there to help Pats, that I needed to take some decisive steps like seeking out counselling and starting to take anti-depressants. I didn’t have the thought-processing power to understand what I was trying to achieve as such, just that I needed to do it. Now though, I can rationalise a lot of what is happening and take decisions accordingly.

Just after my birthday I took the decision to see if I could cope without the sertraline. So now I am taking half my normal dose for a month, and will then halve it again for another month, with the aim of being chemical-free by mid-September. It may or may not work, and if it doesn’t then I’m not bothered. I’ll up the dosage again. It isn’t failure, it’s just that the timing isn’t yet right. If it does work then I will be working through life under my own steam.

But to do this effectively I need to do something else too. I need to shed the burdens that I carry that do not warrant my time or attention. There are two things that are important to me; my love for the woman that I have known since I was 12, and preserving and protecting my daughter’s name and memory. Anything that gets in the way has to go. I am ready for the fact that a reduced dose of anti-depressant could (but might not) impact on my ability and capacity to cope. To mitigate that risk, I am unloading the peripheral stuff. The niggles that have scratched away at me for some time, distracting me from what is important. I’ve already got rid of a few minor niggles and am now removing myself from situations that annoy or irritate me. I’m not afraid to say ‘No’ when it is required. I’m no longer going to expend brain power or emotional energy on people that simply don’t understand what it is like to watch as your child dies in front of you. The ones that think that I should have ‘moved on’.

There’s a phrase that we all know: three strikes and you’re out. I’ve taken that a step further where my mental health is concerned: one strike and you’re out. It’s harsh I know, but what so many fail to grasp is that Evie’s death was so far-reaching that it will affect me until I die. The solution is straight-forward. I am going to remove myself from events, situations and people that don’t get it or that create situations that I don’t want to deal with. It’s emotional self-preservation. With reduced chemical input, I am making sure that there is a minimum of external input to have to face or cope with. Other bereaved parents will get where I am coming from, others won’t, but that is fine.

Last summer, I wrote a WW but never published it as it was so angry at a bunch of people in Melksham that were, in my eyes, nothing more than oxygen thieves. We stood our ground and were proved right. ‘Karma’ intervened and very shortly, one of the last of them could be gone from our lives for good. Loyalty and honour have become increasingly important to me over the last year. If you are there for me, I will be there for you. Let me down and I will cut you free. I have a limited supply of energy and will conserve what I have for the friends and family that need it. Life is tough enough without having to waste energy on those that don’t or can’t understand. One of the things that I wrote in that WW was that if you go toe to toe with a bereaved parent, you will lose. The reason is simple: we have experienced the hardest thing that this life can throw at us. We have survived hell, so we can’t fall any further. We have nothing to lose because we have already lost it all. But that realisation also means that we understand very clearly what we need in our lives to survive and if people aren’t there for us or fail to grasp how important Evie’s memory is, then I will quietly step away and leave them to their own little worlds.

Grief is a strange and unpredictable thing. It is different for everyone. It twists and turns, doubles back, or jumps about. But after 3 1/2 years I have come to recognise that in order to cope with those sudden and unpredictable changes as they occur, I need every ounce of strength that I have. I don’t need to be diverted by other things that soak up energy and time. In a way, that realisation is quite liberating. It means that I can focus on who and what I love. My wife and my daughter.