Starting Therapy After Our Son’s Suicide

This week Brian and I went in for a therapy intake appointment. We didn’t know what to expect and we had our reservations but we hoped for the best.

Telling The Story

I have talked about our situation many times over the last five months. I’m comfortable talking about it and blogging about it. It helps me to get things out. But when I sat down, I suddenly didn’t know how to answer her questions. I very awkwardly told her about William and other details of the year so far. I was confused by my discomfort but chalked it up to my surroundings.

She started with asking me routine questions and kindly pretended to believe me when I said I didn’t know my weight. Ha. Then when she got into real stuff, she asked if I felt that I was dealing with my grief in healthy ways. I said yes. I told her that I blog about it and that helps get it out. (Moving On After A Suicide And Dealing With The Trauma) I also told her that we talk about him often. She asked me if I felt like I hide from my grief or try to run away from it. I said I didn’t think so.

Anyway, they reccomended family therapy and we headed home, not looking forward to the kids’ reactions to their recommendation.

I surprised myself

But, here’s the interesting part. when we got home, I was feeling down, in a way that I didn’t expect. Brian and I were just sitting in the living room, talking and I could feel myself starting to break down. Then I started telling myself “No, I don’t want to do it. I don’t want to cry.” And I was suddenly aware of it!

That’s when I realized. Oh man, did I just have an epiphany before even starting therapy? Am I actually avoiding really facing my grief??

Then I did cry. I said things like “He really is gone. Forever.” I felt like part of me was finally realizing that. I didn’t enjoy it by the way.

We talked about him a long time that night. Really, we do that a lot but it felt different this time.

Ever since then, it feels new again. I keep forgetting that he’s not here. Like getting ready to call him down for Uno with us the other night and then remembering. Expecting to see him come down the stairs throughout the day. Breaking down when I see his ssn and realizing that he will never need it. Brian coming home to me crying in the kitchen (I don’t even remember what the trigger was.) You know, fun stuff like that!

There’s work to do

I don’t know, I mean, obviously I have been grieving. (Stuck In The Anger Stage Of Grief) My heart has been broken, But apparently, there is another layer that I have yet to explore and I’m pretty sure it’s going to suck.