I survived going to the counselor. It went better than I had anticipated. I had been so afraid of being told I need to feel differently than I do. That I’d be told I wasn’t doing what I should be. Instead, he told me that I seemed to be managing well. He said that it just takes time, which I know. I’m just in a place right now where I wish I could somehow fast forward to happier times.
I had been worried that he wouldn’t understand the gravity of the loss of a child. It’s such a deeper hurt than any other grief. It’s a loss that goes completely against the natural order of life. Instead, he told me that he and his wife had lost a baby in infancy 29 years ago. I had no idea when I made the appointment and quite frankly I’m going to chalk this up to a God thing. God knew I needed someone that I felt could relate to the pain. I needed another reminder that there is a light at the end of this very dark and long tunnel of grief.
We talked about letting the feelings and emotions come, but then letting them go instead of holding onto them and letting them drag me down further.
We talked about how I feel let down by God. We talked about how I seem to let the feelings of abandonment that I feel towards my own father carry over into how I see God sometimes. It’s that analogy of God as our Father that has always hung me up. For many who have a good relationship with their dad, I’m sure it’s a beautiful analogy. But for me, for those whose dads weren’t around, it’s hard to understand comparing God to a father.
For me, my father left before I was even born. For me my father was never a part of my life. So to think of God as a father makes me think that He will leave me too. That He will hurt me. The counselor reminded me that God the Father and my father are not the same. God hasn’t left me. He hasn’t forgotten me. I desperately needed that reminder.
I know I still have a long way to go to get used to this new “normal,” but for the first time in 3 months I actually think I believe that I will get there. I left the office yesterday with some much needed hope.
I’m still grieving deeply. I’m still sad, this morning was a lovely example of how deeply sad
I we still are (that’s a post for another day), but I think I’m starting to hope again. And that’s a very good thing.