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“Fight It”
Often times throughout my life when I experienced something stressful or painful I would just put my head down and try to fight through it. This approach had always worked for me. In fact, I implemented this approach after the death of my first child Katie. I put my head down and tried to fight through the pain and the stress. Since I grew up with a blue collar background were fighting was a rite of passage. I thought I was doing a bang up job battling this enemy. However, about 18 months later and just a few weeks prior to the death of my son Noah, I started to notice small cracks in the façade I had put up. These cracks would prove to me the downfall of the strong foundation I thought I had created. Over the 18 months leading up to this point, every time an “emotion” would show up, I would squash it. Push it back down as quickly and as forcefully as I could. I actually thought I was winning this battle, but this enemy is ruthless and would blind side me every chance it could. This constant beating was starting to take a toll on me.
The death of my son was like a swift kick to the groin and it sent me to my knees. Every time I would try to get back up it would strike again, more force. I was a slow learner; in fact I would try to give myself pep talks. Literally, there were a few occasions where I would stand in front of the mirror in the morning while I was getting ready for work and I would catch the look of pain on my face; that sad depressing look that appeared to age me by several years. I would lean into the mirror and try to give my best pep talk. “You fucking need to pull your shit together and fight though this”. I would then punch the vanity top to pump myself up. It’s kind of embarrassing to even admit to such behavior, put I was doing what worked for me in other difficult situations in my life. In the past, if something wasn’t going my way, I would take control of the situation. But this approach was not working for me no matter how many conversations I would have with myself. I thought by pumping myself up, I could win this battle. Not a chance. This pain would dare me to try to shake it off and when I would try, it would add on a little more until the load became so heavy I surrendered to it.
Yes, I surrendered. Gave up and quit fighting it. I finally became so exhausted from this battle that I just said okay, you win. As soon as I changed my mindset and surrendered to the pain, I started to actually feel all of the pain and emotions I had suppressed the previous 2 years. I mean really feel it to the core. I let it take its course. I let it “be what it was” at that given moment. I allowed it to sweep over me and consume almost every thought. I wasn’t sure I was going to survive it and in fact, I would constantly ask my wife, counselor and a few trusted friends if I was going to survive it. They assured me I would, but I even started to see the concerns on their face and realized they really didn’t know if I would.
I think taking a break from fighting it and allowing it to be what it was help me to regain my strength to start the long, drawn our process of rebuilding my life. I can now look back and say I lost a lot of battles over the last several years, but in the end, I knew when to surrender and I knew when to come out swinging. I can honestly say that I am in a good place in my life as a result of surrendering to the process of grief.
I want to be clear here, I am not saying you shouldn’t fight, but don’t “fight” the fact that it’s there, that it hurts, that the death of your child has impacted aspects of your life that you don’t even realize yet. What I am saying is pick your battles and live to fight another day. This isn’t a onetime battle, it’s thousands of battles. You will lose some of them and you will win some of them, the important fact is its ok to throw in the towel when you need to. Know your limitations and learn to allow the process to run its course.
Any thoughts on this topic you would like to share?
“Slow Down”
I work about 3 miles from where I live, which is unheard of here in the western suburbs of Chicago. However, the route I take to work is the same route that many people take to catch the commuter train into the City to work. The road travels through a corporate park that is lined with large canopied trees. I am not typically in a hurry to rush to the office so I actually try to enjoy my drive.
It’s not uncommon for many of these commuters to pull up real close behind my car and try to hurry me along. That’s generally a mistake on their part since it usually pisses me off when they are trying to force me to rush through my day. It pisses me off for a couple of reasons, one is the fact I am trying to ease into my day and their impatience is ruining that for me. The second reason is that the only concern these people have right now if being late to work. Late to work. I could think of more stressful things in life to get worked up over, late to work is not one of those things for me. I watch them throwing their hands up in the air and yelling at me to hurry up, which makes me slow down to the point they go around me.
Today on my way to the office, I happened to look over to the car next to me and this guy was shaving while he was driving. His visor was down and electric shaver in hand. All I could think of was dude you didn’t have 3 minutes to spare this morning before you left the house. My guess is that this is part of his daily go go go routine. Hurry up and check another task off my list approach to life. I get it, I was once there. I never shaved in the car, but I know the feeling of rushing around closing deals like I use to.
My guess is that most of these people on this road rushing to work have never had the tragic responsibility of burying a child. Having buried two children, I learned the hard way that I needed to slow down. I really didn’t have much of a choice, I use to live in the rat race of rushing around all of the time, but really have no interest in that anymore. None. I try not to let mundane tasks get me worked up to the point that I am stressed out. I know it’s easier said than done, but sometimes I have to take a step back and say look, “give yourself a break, you have buried two children, the fact you are still a productive member of society is a huge accomplishment considering there was a period of time you never thought you would be again.” This little reminder quickly gets my attention.
Have you had a change in how you approach life since the death of your child? Has it changed you perspective?
They Walk Among Us
I had a unique experience last week while I was at work that took me a little off guard. To give you some background leading up to this experience, it started the Friday before New Year’s weekend and I was on the phone with someone (Mark) I had never spoken to before and we were talking about the possibility of his firm doing some sub-consultant work for a project I was managing.
I am the type of person that is genuinely interested in other people; I think everyone has a story to tell which I find intriguing. Therefore, as with most of my conversations, we started making small talk. The conversation turned to the subject how each of us was planning on spending the New Year’s weekend. Mark shared with me his plans and when it came time for what my plans were, I mentioned that I was writing a book and I was planning on spending most of the weekend putting the finishing touches on one of the last chapters. His question back to me was, “what type of book are you writing.” I then explained to him that I was writing a book for men that have experienced the death of a child. There was a few seconds delay and then he asked me why I was writing this book and if I had experience with the subject matter. I then gave him a brief overview of my losses and what prompted me to write such a book. He then said something that got my attention, he said, “I have experience with that, I lost a baby in the mid-80’s.”
This has happened to me on more than one occasion when a general conversation turns to someone sharing with me that they too have lost a child. Of course I hear from grieving dads daily through my Grieving Dads Project blog, but I am talking about the kind of people in your community that you speak with that you have no idea of what you have been through. I think this goes to show that there are millions of us out there. The problem is we often keep that “secret” to ourselves not really wanting to talk about it or burden others with our experiences. The reality is, if we do not talk about it, we don’t make the connections I made with Mark, who was a stranger before our phone conversation. There are many grieving dads (and moms) that we pass by daily. People that understand and can connect with what we have been through. They may not be people that are newly bereaved; they may be like Mark and be almost 25 years out from their loss, but these people still “get it.” They remember those deep dark early days (years) of grief and how debilitating they are. Not to mention the thoughts we all have about not being able to survive this blow.
I got sidetracked in my story, so let me bring the story back to last week, the firm that Mark is with had planned to come in and do an hour presentation some new technology they were using. I was really looking forward to meeting Mark since this was the first time meeting him face to face. He arrived with two other guys from his firm and I got them set up in a conference room. When I met him, I felt an instant connection with him, a strong connection. We didn’t speak about our losses, but there was an understanding, at least on my part, that this dude knows what I have been through because he has walked the walk.
I know this is going to sound weird, but during his presentation, my mind drifted off from the presentation and I found myself looking at him from a different perspective. Not from a business perspective, but I looked at him as a fellow survivor; a survivor that I know has been through hell, just like me and the many other grieving dads I have met. There was a point where I became emotional thinking about what he has been through and what I have been through. I know this is also going to sound a little weird, but I wanted to get up and walk over to him and put my arm around him. The thought of doing that brought even more emotion and a strong sense of compassion towards him.
This is a common response for me when I meet a fellow grieving dad, but this was the first experience I’ve had with a grieving dad in the business world. There is a brotherhood between all of us and we should try to use it to help each other along this journey.
I never said anything to Mark after his presentation about what I was thinking. I know he occasionally reads this blog so when he reads this story I am sure he is going to think “I thought that guy was looking at me a little weird”.