We lost Analin on October 6, 2013.
Weeks ago. Hours ago. Months, even.
But I am not okay.
Surprised? Of course not. Not when I say it like that. It's funny, though, how easily others can forget.
On the Monthday of her passing, my mother emailed me to ask me to do some photo transfers for her.
Photo transfers. On Analin's Monthday.
I turned off my phone to stop the notifications, but guiltily turned it back on and did them a few hours later.
Six weeks after we lost her, I asked my husband to take the boys. I was supposed to take my niece and nephews to swim class, but I cancelled and told everyone I just wanted to be alone. Suddenly they were asking me if I was clinically depressed and suggested strongly I needed to go to counseling.
This may have been partly my fault due to my great desire to remember Analin with as much happiness as possible, to be strong for my boys and to live in the world as a successful, happy person.
But I am broken. Still breaking, in fact. And I am not okay.
For example, there I was on Thanksgiving, hurting so deeply I didn't know where to turn for relief. I began to blame everyone else as the source of my hurting until I realized it was all due to Analin's loss. I had a few apologies to hand out, though not as many as I could have, thankfully. I'm so grateful to a family who is understanding and loves me or the holiday could have gone so much worse.
All of this doesn't mean I am clinically depressed. It doesn't mean I need therapy, though I promise I will go if I need to. (I have started going to a support group once a month.) It just means I had a very painful experience, one that will take more than a lifetime to get over. I will have bad days. I will want to be left alone. I may lash out not knowing why and I will apologize after. I will say no, which I'm sure will come as a shock to many who haven't heard me say it often, if at all.
That last bit may prove beneficial in many ways.
This is going to take time and energy. Some days I'm going to be too tired to fight, to force a different way of thinking on myself. And that's okay. It doesn't mean I'm lost, or depressed-sad, or in danger of hurting myself or others. It just means I'm healing from a wound that reopens every minute, and today is a rough day.
So please, if you know someone else (or me), take all the days to notice how we are acting or feeling before jumping to the conclusion we need more than what we're giving ourselves. Most of the time, we're amazing at knowing what we need for ourselves. Trust us. Love us. Help us on those days we need you the most. And know we will be there for you, too, on the days you need us the most. Because we know this isn't over for you, either.