My Double Life

I read an article yesterday about concealed depression, and it really hit home for me. While I don't consider myself depressed, I have found that many symptoms of Grief are indeed similar. And much like depression, I think Grief is something that needs to be talked about openly and honestly. I think people need to know and understand that those suffering a great loss may appear fine on the outside, but what's going on inside is an entirely different scenario. The thing is, people have expectations of those grieving. They expect and accept that you will be sad for awhile. A few weeks, maybe a couple months. But after that, they start to feel like you're just dragging it out. That it's time to move on. Of course, they'll never say that to you, but you can see it in their faces. You can tell by the way they react to you when you get upset. They stop asking how you're doing, and they avoid subjects that they fear might trigger you. 

I get that. No one wants to be around a Sad Sally or a Debbie Downer all the time. So we learn to conceal our feelings. We put on a happy face, and we pretend we are doing great. And you know what? People accept it, because that's what they want to see. They want you to go back to being your old self. They want you to be happy. But here's the real truth... That person we were before... they died with our loved one. And while we can still have moments of happiness, they will always be bittersweet for us, because we can't share them with the person we most want to. 

It's been almost two and a half years since we lost our son. And the pain of that loss is just as fresh as it was that day. The difference is, I've learned to hide it. Of course, there will always be times when I just can't keep it hidden. Things that will trigger a breakdown no matter how much I fight it. But the rest of the time I wear my mask. I suffer in silence. I lead a double life. 

The part I think that people need to understand the most, is that this double life is so hard to maintain. It's a fragile balance at best. And it's not just a double life in the sense that we smile when we really want to scream. It's also a war inside of our own mind. For example, when people share photos of their happy families, I really do enjoy seeing them. But at the same time, I am almost unbearably envious and angry. It's like I have multiple personalities fighting inside your head. When I hear people complain about their kids, I want to grab them and shake them. I want to yell at them to shut up and be grateful for that damn mess. But I also remember being that parent. I know that it's annoying as hell to have to pick up dirty, stinky socks off the kitchen floor day after day. When I see and hear people talk about the joys of being a grandparent, I'm genuinely happy for them. But I'm also heartbroken that I will never know that joy. When something good happens to me, or my husband, it's wonderful. But it's almost equally as painful, knowing that our son isn't here to share in the moment. And don't forget the guilt you feel when you are actually enjoying yourself. Why do I deserve to laugh and be happy, but my son doesn't? It's not logical, we get that. But good luck trying to explain that to your emotions.
And then there's the nightmares, flashbacks, and more. You're utterly drained from holding back your emotions all the time, but sleep comes at such a cost, IF it even comes at all. So most of the time, you're functioning on fumes. All these things effect our day to day lives. Our memory, our ability to perform simple tasks, our energy level, the way we react to things, the way we deal with relationships, our patience, and so on. Grief literally leaves no stone unturned. It worms its way into every facet and aspect of your life, and wreaks havoc on them all. 

This is my double life. And it's one that so many people live. It's true what they say... you never know what another person is dealing with.