My mum died in a hospital with my two sisters and brother by her side. I couldn’t be there I’d just had a major operation two days earlier and when I heard I sobbed and my wife held me as I began to momentarily fall into grief.
My mum got lost in the mental health system her mind her passion for music she was drowned by the institution of drugs and of shock after shock of ECT and I grieve I feel the loss of her beautiful mind and the loss to me of my childhood . I never had those mum and daughter chats or shopping together we both got lost I shrank into my shell of not feeling and tumbled into the land of cut off, I stopped feeling I couldn’t grieve her loss . Cut off is the only way I learnt to survive as a child hiding in the cold garage scared of a mum who’s mind was disappearing before my eyes and I didn’t know if she was safe to be with. I wanted her love but I was afraid.
She disappeared often sectioned and we didn’t talk about the schizophrenia label she was given she was just gone no explanation . I now have such difficulties around people leaving , of loss, of missing, it tears right to my core, I return to the cold garage. I lose control I dissociate I can’t bear the pain. I feel like I’m watching from the outside in at myself or I slump, I physically lose control.
My mum died a few months back and I’ve had not had many feelings about her death. I’ve kept busy my learnt way to cope of being in perpetual mind and body motion. I avoid the pain of feeling … it’s been so hard alongside battling with thoughts of suicide and self harm.
But this is a blog of two tales there’s another story there always is ..
My therapy ends in two weeks a journey of three years where I’ve been so lucky and have seen
myself unfold before my own eyes. I’m aware of so much more about myself . I’ve changed literally I’m not so fearful anymore and I’ve found I don’t have to like everyone nor them me …. I’ve been freed. I see all the different parts of me and it’s ok . As my therapy is Transference Focused Psychotherapy * my therapist has felt my pain in learning those difficult lessons of grief, for a childhood I longed for but never had.
We have been through it all I have cried most times and laughed from time to time and I see her smile from the corner of my eye.
As I see the slow approach of my therapy ending in June I’ve begun to grieve . I sit uncontrollably sobbing the thought of walking through that door fills me with despair of a belief I may collapse and never wake up. A transference • of my mother leaving a trauma so deep rooted that I’m forced to relive it in my mind a thousand times over as I imagine the ending of a relationship like no other. I feel dropped out of sight out of mind. I cease to exist.
I’m slow moving at present the death of my mum the end of my therapy intertwined like coiled snakes . I’m grieving for my mum, my loss of childhood and a therapist who took me on a journey of the most difficult kind, which was so rewarding I was learning how I could be me.
I am beginning to grieve to allow myself to feel this depression . I’m approaching my sadness instead of cutting off and running away. Oh and it so hurts.
The door still looms large in my mind early in June when I step through it for the last time. I will allow myself to be vulnerable to accept support, something I find so hard .
I am beginning to see you mum and I grieve for you and your life .. there were happy times for you I know and you did your best with little support.
I will miss your wisdom kind therapist I know it’s time for me to go. I cry and that’s ok .