New Year’s Eve…

A time of reflection of the year that is about to end and the time to make promises or resolutions to the year about to start. 

What do you see when you stand and look in the mirror?  The reflection of yourself?  Is it a positive or negative reflection?  As I stood in the bathroom getting ready for work this morning it was hard to see a good person staring back at me… 

A year ago today was the last day I saw my little boy.

I knew this day would come, probably the most painful memory surrounding that time.  I just didn’t realize how quick it would get here.  There were months of anxiety attacks leading up to today knowing it was coming, months of therapy to help me, and months of thinking, lots of thinking.

I can see him, standing in front of me, looking at me, his “Mommy”.  All I can do is cry.  Salted tears slowly dripping from my eyes, gravity forcing them down my cheeks and eventually falling off my face.  He is just staring, curious, probably repeating in his head, “What is wrong with Mommy?”  I am holding his hands in my own, feeling his skin.  I bring each one up to my lips and kiss them.  His deep sienna eyes following my movements saying, “What is going on?”.  Then I place my hands on his plump cheeks and caress them, trying to brand the feeling into my brain forever.  Soft, very soft.  I cup his face, and bring the teary mess of my own close to his.  I kiss his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, his chin.  Then I back away repeating, “I’m sorry, so sorry.  Mommy is so sorry Tyler.  Mommy loves you and will always love you.” I turn to leave knowing my little boy is longing to know where Mommy is going.

Pain, anguish, heartbreak.  They all take over my reflection in the mirror.  Soon they are joined in with guilt, failure, misery.  How has it been a year?  365 days have passed?  Where was I?

During therapy this week, I had a realization.  As a Depressive, I am automatically prone to dwelling in the past, kind of like I am stuck, my feet bound in a pool of molasses.  I can’t move, I am etched into this memory.  What has staying in the past done?  I’ve missed so many important and great memories with my present daughter because my brain just wasn’t here.  It chose to be absent, it chose to be in purgatory.  Of course telling me to get my head out of the ass of my past and join the present day is so much easier said than done, remember, I am a Chronic Depressive.  I am used to living in the past, so used to it, I don’t know what it is like to live in the present.  But, in therapy this week, holding the hand buzzers for my EMDR treatment, I finally realized I NEED to let go.  I need to pry myself from December 31, 2014, and move on for the health of everyone, especially myself.

How do I let go?  How do I let go and not forget the terrific boy Tyler was (and probably still is)? How do I let go on leaving him because I failed him?  Because I failed myself?  How do I let go of sliding down into the depths of hell so quickly and still ignoring it?  How do I forgive myself for all of this?  For everything that was never supposed to happen again?

During this therapy session, when closing my eyes for another round of EMDR thinking, I pictured Mahatma Gandhi.  At least I thought it was him.  It may have been the Buddha.  All I know is it was a bald seated figure in shrouds.  My therapist thought it interesting but not strange that I pictured this.  He wanted to know why.  I replied saying I felt they were the epitome of being calm and relaxed, the epitome of acceptance.  He then had me close my eyes to ask this figure how I could let go.  I was anxious for a response.  I could see in my head standing next to them and asking them, “How can I let go but not forget?  How can I live in the present?”

A minute passed.  I opened my eyes and took a deep breath.  My therapist asked what happened.  “They didn’t tell me anything.  I spent the last minute asking, begging out of desperation, and nothing.”

“That’s okay,” he said, “Realizing you need to let go is a start and we will work from there.”

So, December 31st, 2015, I am letting go of your 1 year older sister.  I will try my hardest to throw away the horrible emotions my Depression has associated with her.  I will embrace my little boy in my memories and leave the pain and guilt there.  It will not be instant.  This will be a process, but I have finally made a step in the correct direction.