Are You There, Brain? It's Me, Nicole

Okay, so let’s just lay this out.  As recent as last Friday, I realized before tumbling into bed that I might be starting to heal, just a little.  I realized this because of one chance encounter with a dear friend at the coffeeshop.  I hadn’t seen this lovely lady in at least eight years.  Squeals and neck hugs were in abundance.  The caffeine coursing through our veins was nothing compared to the pace of our delighted chatter.  As moms will do, my friend pulled up a pic of her son, who had been in my preschool class so many years ago.  I was amazed to see the handsome young man that I remembered best sitting criss cross applesauce at my circletime rug.  He was a dear, sweet boy, and had become a kind, thriving young man who was breaking his momma’s heart by asking her not to use his childhood nickname anymore.  I could see the real pain flash in my friend’s eyes as she described this latest development in parenting called Letting Them Go, One Painful Step at a Time.

Naturally, my friend soon asked after my kids, who had been maybe ten and one when we’d last seen each other.  It was here that I drew in a deep breath, and told her what happened to Cory.  She teared up immediately, and began praying for me on the spot…maybe not aloud, but the look on her face said it all.  Over the next hour or so, we caught up, and I shared the details of the accident, and the nightmare I have been forced to live.

I cried.  She cried.  The friend who had met her for coffee, and had just met me, cried.  It was a very real and honest conversation.  It wasn’t until I got home, hours later, and was laying my head down on my pillow, that I realized something startling, and sort of amazing.  I sat straight up in my bed, realizing that for the very first time that I could remember, I had ran into someone, told them of Cory’s death, with details, with tears, but had not said “It was my fault”.

I could hardly believe this had happened.  It must have been those flashcards I had made to challenge my faulty thinking had finally sunk in.  I still didn’t buy the concept that I wasn’t responsible one hundred percent of the time, mind you, but there were more and more moments when I was willing to entertain the thought.

This was huge.  I remember going around the next day or so, feeling pretty proud of myself.  I had changed my thinking, at least a little, in a more positive direction.

Imagine my surprise to wake up two days later, feeling as down and lost as I have since day one.  Really, Brain, really?  Is that the best you can do? 

I am down the rabbit hole once again.

===To Be Continued