Dress Up

Going back to work after the accident was incredibly difficult.  I wanted to stay frozen in my pain, free to pore over pictures of her, listen to her music, and sleep the heartache away.  I did not believe the doctor or any of the people who said getting back into my former routine would help.  I could not imagine being around people...happy people, and watching the world go on when my own had stopped.  I couldn't imagine being around children and families; my chest hurt every time I saw a parent and child together.  My heart began to burn with a seething jealousy that could hurt, maim, kill.  How could I do my job?  How could I be expected to focus on anything other than my baby girl? 


Every journey starts with one small step, they say. 


My small step was to bring Cory to work with me everyday.  The night before- as I'd done millions of times with Cory lounging across my bed, offering her opinion and commentary- I would pick out my outfit for the next day.  I'd hang it on a knob of my dresser, just like always.  And over the hanger, I would suspend whichever piece of memorial jewelry I'd chosen for the day.  All that frenzied online shopping with the dear, sweet woman, Marla, was worth every obsessed minute and every dollar spent.  Those necklaces and bracelets got me out of bed.  They made it okay to leave my house without feeling like I was doing something wrong.  They gave me a way to see her face any time I wanted if I wasn't near my computer, my phone, or a photo album.


The jewelry also did something even better.  It connected me with people.  Picture jewelry is a conversation piece.  People asked- even people I didn't know.  It gave me a chance to say Cory's name.  Every day!  It gave me an opportunity to tell my story, and telling my story was something integral to healing from the trauma of seeing Cory the way I did.  It gave me hundreds of chances to honor my girl.  These necklaces and bracelets are cherished beyond belief, just as my Cory was.  I never leave my house without one.  To see me without a piece of Cory jewlery, you'd have to climb right in the shower with me.


Special thanks to Marla Johnson of Planetjill.com for her kindness, her patience, and her support.  Thank you for helping a very broken and desperately lost momma find something to hold onto, and create a ritual that literally got her on her feet again.  Love you, Marla.