My Mask...

There is a wonderful facebook page I follow, Silent Grief - Child Loss Support (Click here to visit the page.) that seems to know exactly what I am thinking most days. Today, they made a post about how grieving parents are Big Pretenders. This means that we often pretend to be ok, when in fact, we are far from it. I've talked about this before many times (most notably in this post), and I usually refer to it as my Mask. This Mask is something I put on every day, much like my make-up, jewelry, and clothing. I wear it to blend in, and to appear normal. Most often it is for the benefit of others. But recently, it's come to my attention that I may just be wearing it selfishly, too.
It's true that most people don't want to deal with the sadness of others. Whether they realize it or not, many individuals will actively avoid someone who is depressed, sad, angry, or hurting. And grieving parents are all of these things and more, all the time. So we are often avoided, shunned, and ignored. This is something I learned very early on in my Grief, and quickly adjusted to. Hence, my Mask. The more normal you appear, the less awkward and uncomfortable it is for those around you. But it isn't just about them. Many times, it's about me. I don't want to feel awkward either. I've seen the reactions I get when I say that I lost my son. It's like telling someone that you've got a bomb strapped to your chest. They slowly back away and then run as fast as they can in the opposite direction. The Mask keeps that from happening. I can just pretend to be normal, goofy, happy Teena, and no one is the wiser. Then when they learn about my son, they are less likely to judge me based solely on that fact. Yes, I am a grieving parent, and that is a HUGE part of who I am. My son is a huge part of who I am, and I would never pretend otherwise. I will talk about him, and sometimes I may get emotional for what appears to be no reason. These are also parts of me now. But there IS more to me, and I want others to see that too. So I wear my Mask. For them, and for me.
Last week, I was called upon for jury selection. I spent 2 days sitting in a courtroom listening to a judge, and a panel of lawyers ask endless questions, in an attempt to find a group of 14 people who could be unbiased. As I sat there, ready to explode, feeling overwhelmed, and looking for any means of escape, I realized something. I was not ready for this. Tomorrow will be 18 months since we lost Zachary. I have worn my Mask nearly every one of those days. And in doing so, I had begun to convince even myself that I was doing ok. But the thing is... I'm not. And the cold hard truth of it is, I never will be. I can fake it, wear my Mask, and pretend to be normal, but I never really will be. And sitting in that courtroom, praying they didn't call my number, I realized that. I knew that I couldn't sit through a trial for 3 young men, not much older than my son. I knew that even if I thought they were guilty, I wouldn't be able to look their mother's in the eye, and take their little boys away from them. I knew that I couldn't look at photos of injuries and trauma, and not see the face of my son in that hospital bed. But above and beyond all of that, I knew that I was not ok, and that I would have to admit that. Out loud. To a room full of strangers.
And that's exactly what happened. They called my number, and I walked to that chair, and when the judge asked me if there was any reason I could not participate in this trial... I said yes. And when he asked me to elaborate, I explained why. I admitted to him that I had recently lost my son, and I was not in any condition emotionally to be able to handle the stress of a trial. Luckily, he dismissed me immediately. But in that moment, looking him in the eye, I wasn't just admitting that to him... I was admitting that to myself. I'm not ok. I'm not fine. This Mask isn't really me.
I need to start taking the Mask off. Maybe not for long periods of time, but sometimes. Maybe just when I'm alone, or with certain people. This frightens me, but I know I have to do it.
While in the waiting room at the courthouse, I sat with the same group of people both days. We could sit anywhere, but we opted to sit by each other. On the second day, after chatting amongst ourselves, we discovered something. Out of 4 of us at the table, 3 had lost children. The fourth had lost a brother, so he also knew what grieving parents went through, he had seen it first hand. In the time since losing my son, I have only met one other person who had lost a child. Now here I sat with two. One had lost their child five years before, to cancer, and the other to suicide, 16 years prior. We talked. We cried. We shared stories, and kindness. For a few fleeting moments, I almost felt normal. I could honestly express what I was feeling and thinking, and these people understood. We had each removed our masks, and we had found a strange comfort together. So maybe I can do this. Maybe I can risk taking this Mask off from time to time, and test the waters. If three strangers can find each other in a room of hundreds, I suppose anything is possible....