Wednesday, January 9, 2013

The accidental patient.

The littles started group therapy at Hospice on Monday.  They were nervous, but ready to meet other kids like themselves.

Out of all the Moms in the world, they have one that truly gets the power of "same" I encouraged them, and routed for them...and they enthusiastically said they would give it a go.

They loved it.  I could hear L's group laughing and running around the room from two walls away.  Music to my ears!

I on the other hand, was in the kitchen having my heart ripped out.

Dramatic much?

When the therapist told me about the boys' meetings, she casually mentioned that the moms meet in the kitchen to talk while the kids are in their groups.  Since I didn't want to just drop the boys off and drive away, (they may have needed me!) I decided I would talk to the moms in the kitchen to pass the time.

But as I walked into the kitchen, I found a group of woman sitting around a table, with nametags, and a candle lit...and two moderators running a MEETING.

"Oh, I'm sorry!  I must have the wrong room..."

"Oh no!  Aren't you Meri?  We've been waiting for you."

Sure enough my eyes focused in on a nametag waiting for me.  This was no casual meet-up.  This was therapy.

Yeah...I had absolutely no intention in participating in a therapy session.  Ever.

Regardless, I couldn't just run away...although the thought certainly did flash through my mind.  I sat down like the responsible adult I am, and went along with it.

Two professionals.  A rundown of the rules and goals, who was here, who wasn't here and why.  A talking stick.  This was real, people. 

And the kicker was...they were expecting me to come back.  This was a 5 month thing and it was just taken as fact that I would be attending each and every week.

So there I was.  A deer caught in the headlights.  At a table of woman who had lost someone important in their lives.  All the "same" that I have been touting to the boys was sitting right in front of me.  It was comforting and horrifying all at the same time. 

One of the themes discussed was that my children's success in processing their grief depends completely on me.  Studies show if I handle it well, they will.

And this is supposed to make me feel better, how?  I have to hand it to them though.  It guilted me into agreeing to attend next week.  I want my babies to be happy and healthy.  Walking away would be totally arrogant...I can't pretend I have a handle on this grieving thing.

I know it is good for me to attend.  I know I will glean valuable insight if I listen to these woman.  I KNOW these things.

It's just so much easier to write it out on my blog than to hash it out in person...with people that have the same hurt in their eyes as I do.


I'm in therapy.

 And I'm not happy about it.  At all.  They boys were told in their groups that I was in a group too, and they think that's the greatest thing ever.   

What have I gotten myself into?  If Ryan is responsible for any part of this, he's getting a stern talking to when I see him again.

There is no use fighting it.  It's on.  I can only hope that the power of same will heal me the same way it has done in the Diabetes Online Community environment.

Now I just need to look into having my tear ducts removed before the next meeting on Monday.

 That's totally feasible, right?


  1. You know as well as any of us that having community takes some of your burden and makes it a little tiny bit easier to handle. You're a champion for your kids' diabetes community, and you can definitely be a champion for your personal community too. Good luck, Meri :)

  2. Meri, I lead a support group for people dealing with a loved one with Young Onset Alzheimer's and I gotta tell you going to the meeting is my lifeline as I still deal with grief from losing my mom. Give it a few weeks and I think you will come to love it and need it. I love you!

  3. Good luck, I think I would hate it too, but I bet in the long run it's good for you and your boys. You Can Do This, You Can Do Anything. <3

  4. Meri, The hard things are always the best. We may not acknowledge it at first but this will be a help to you and your boys. They are looking at you learning how to handle this tragedy. The love you have for your boys is so obvious. Thank you for sharing your story.

  5. Meri, All things happen for a reason, it is not always clear or understandable what the reason may be.. but over time I think it becomes clearer that we all have a purpose or mission in our lives. My mission only became clear to me after Suzie's death and my subsequent involvement with the Alzheimer's Association. It became very clear after I shared my feelings with others in the same predicament in their lives. It was done through a "support group" i.e therapy. Telling your story and telling Ryan's story becomes very theraputic and healing and opens up new worlds for you and your family. Stay the course and take as much as you give back. Love to you, Rick

  6. Completely, totally amazing. I would have run a mile. You? You kept an open mind and an open heart. I have had years of therapy, Meri. It helps. It works. I hope it helps you & the boys. And do tell about 'same' and how it works. I missed something. Gloria xx

  7. Glad you've got yet another community for support (though I'm sure it doesn't feel that comfortable yet)! Your writing just keeps getting better and better - how about adding a book to your list of projects? :)

  8. I know it's hard but you need to do this, whether you realize it or not. I know it's uncomfortable and I know it's scary, but it will help you process and cope in ways that you won't even realize until after the fact.
    I wish I had gone to a grief therapist last year when my mom pasted away last year.
    My first appointment is tomorrow afternoon. WE CAN DO THIS my friend.

  9. Same thing happen to my MIL at the hospice house shortly after my FIL passed, I wonder if it's just part of their care there. However, she and another woman who had casually met prior to their spouses passing at the hospice house are now incredibly close friends. They get an aspect of one anothers lives that others just may not. I hope you find it to be beneficial, and you are an incredible mother for knowing that your ability to go through the process of grief with your children helps them go through their individual processes, too. ((HUGS)) I hope tear duct removal is a necessity!

  10. Wow. You are so strong! A blessing in disguise, maybe?

  11. Oh Meri!!! How horribly scary for you!! I can imagine how you felt at that very moment! I applaud you for not making an excuse to run the other direction!

    My Mom, Sisters, and I had a Hospice counselor come out to the house a few Months after we took my Dad off his was such an emotional heart ache (to say the least) that we NEVER wanted to meet with her again...and we didn't...and I regret it to this day.

    Im happy you decided to continue next weeks therapy session. I just know it will help in so many ways, for all of you. Thank goodness you have those boys to push you through and do what you gotta do!

  12. You are seriously the definition of strength, amazing, hope and inspiring.

    We all got your back. Love you!

  13. Wow, they were waiting for you. That's amazing to hear you say to walk away is arrogant. Your an amazing mother. I truly get a lot of inspiration from you my friend. Godspeed

  14. Well Meri, first and foremost, I am giggling. You are now "one of them". :) I too, am "one of them". But I never had the chance to do what you are doing, and I wish I had been able to at the time I lost who I did. I envy you. Go for this. In the end, you will not regret it. Show them who is boss. Kick azz.


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