Grief Experts?

The first thing I noticed after the kids were killed was that everyone wanted to be an expert on my grief. The second thing I noticed was that they didn't know what they were talking about. I know there are stages to grief, but there is no set order you can say they come in. Once you cover all the stages, it doesn't end. In fact, there is never a true end to it. I don't think you can be healed because this isn't an illness or a condition. So how does anyone believe they are an expert?

I began to encounter experts the day after the crash. I was told by so many that I needed to have a stiff drink. My kids were just killed by a drunk driver. What in the world makes you think my getting drunk is going to help? Try not to think about it. I have to plan a funeral for my three precious babies. How am I not going to think about it? You have to eat. Why, do you want me to throw up again? You have to sleep. Yes, I truly want that nightmare I keep having and to wake up screaming again. Okay, yes, they were looking out for my health, but what they never stopped to consider was that I was doing the best I could at that moment. I was told I needed to call a doctor and get drugs. I don't want to mask what is happening. I want the decisions I am making to be my choice and not the anti depressants.

After the funeral, I enrolled in school. I had the idea that I wanted to work with victims. There, I encountered too many young people with no clue what the world is really like. I guess I expected that, but not that they thought they were experts on everything. But the one that surprised me the most was the head of the department, who taught several classes. She was a trip, and according to her, I was doing nothing right. I shouldn't be taking classes. I shouldn't be speaking. The reason for not speaking, it reminds me of what happened. Because if I don't speak, I won't remember my kids were murdered. I also wouldn't be doing the one thing that makes me feel my Jason, Shannon, and Ruby didn't die in vain. They are saving lives.

I did find support groups online. For the most part, they helped. Knowing I wasn't alone was a comfort. But learning the sheer numbers in the group losing a loved one to a drunk driver made me more determined to do what I could to stop this epidemic. But I also realized experts hang out there. Mention something that is bothering you, and they are quick to tell you what phase you are in and what to do to get through it. Go smell flowers, go take a nap, go have a drink. PLEASE, those things don't work for me. And the word heal, I hate that word. You don't heal from grief like this. You learn to cope. If sniffing a flower works for you, go sniff your day away. I am going to fight because that works for me.

I went to a counselor for about a year after the crash. I was so lucky. The young lady, Emma, was great. She never told me what to do that would fix the issue. She taught me to relax. I used her teaching to get through court. She taught me to trust my instincts and that only I really knew what worked for me. She gave me tips on what to do with the anger that just kept coming up. That poor pillow that became my punching bag LOL.

I took a class on grief when I was in college. I even tried to read a few of the books. They were nonsense. Statements like, "You will go through this, so do this," are silly. No two people experience grief the same way. An example: I lost my son, daughter-in-law, and granddaughter. My husband lost the same three people. We had the same relationship with the kids. Very seldom did only one of us spend time alone with them. Yet our grief patterns are very different. Cliff may be angry when I am in a depression. I need to express what I am going through. He locks himself away and watches a movie or works in the yard. You can't say either of us is doing it wrong or right. It works for us, and that means we are our own grief experts. And we work for each other.

Again, VIP to our rescue. Early on, I had my first panel out of town. I was scared as I didn't know where the town was, and I get lost easily. Cliff didn't really want to; he had never heard me speak or even wanted to. But because I was scared, he went with me. I told him he didn't have to be in the room. He could sit in the car or the lobby. Or if he wanted to, he could come in. I even told him, if he came in and had to leave while I was speaking, I understood. But he came in and stayed. I could see him in the back of the room. The pain on his face was killing me. I was causing this pain. When I was done, he said he had to leave. I did too. We ran outside and hugged and cried. He told me he hoped I understood, he would never hear me speak again. I told him I never wanted him to again. It was too painful. He has never heard me speak again. But he does what he can to help the organization. He helps to ensure I can go to any panel I need to go to. He can't wait to hear the number of Ruby promises we have gotten after a panel. My speaking helps him. His working to ensure I can do this, and maintain our website helps me. WE don't understand how, but it does.

Experts on grief seem to think they can heal those of us in grief. But they can't. They can describe the phases, sure. But they can't say when we will enter each one, how long it will last, or what will help us cope while in it. They can't tell us how many times we will go through different phases. They can tell someone how they coped, but can't say it will or won't work for you. They can't heal you. At my age, I have had a lot of grief. My grandparents, parents, siblings, aunts, and uncles. I still miss them. But they all died from an illness. They were all much older than me. I grew up knowing they would die before me. I grieved and gwent with my future.

Jason, Shannon, and Ruby were murdered. They were supposed to bury me, plan my funeral. I had even told them what I wanted. They would go on and live their future. But their deaths were a shock. No warning was given because they were healthy.But they were our future. They were our everything. Ruby was 22 months old. I hear my friends talking about their grandkids, born around the same time as Ruby. They are going to school. playing sports. learning to cook. I should be doing that with Ruby. I don't have an issue, I love seeing the pictures. But it does bring the grief back to the surfice. I do cry some times. So healing from this grief is a joke.

My advice: if someone proclaims, "I am an expert. I can help you heal. I can tell you what to do to get through this," RUN as fast as you can away from them. Find what works for you. Ask for tips from a friend you trust. You ARE the only expert that understands your grief.