I grouched yesterday to a well-loved confidante that my happiness planner idea was just stupid, and paper products could never fix the magnitude of this mess. This morning I realized I was behaving pretty much like every preschooler who's just been put on a behavior plan and sees that the game has changed. It usually gets worse before it gets better. Change is hard, no?
Of course, paper products cannot change my life outlook. Only I can do that. They are but a tool. The Happiness Planner, this blog, and my art are all coping strategies. I talked to a friend yesterday who lost a loved one over a decade ago. We passionately agreed that the people who say it gets easier with time are dirty rotten liars.
What I think is this: the quality of the pain may never change; but you may be able to improve your coping skills or add new ones to your arsenal. That's pretty much all there is. It's not like I'll ever miss Cory less. As time goes by, I miss her more because I am not able to share my experiences with her. I grieve the loss of my relationship with her; I grieve Jake's; I grieve my parents'. I also grieve all the milestones she will never have, and as each one comes up, it's a fresh death with all of the feelings from July 5, 2012 brought boiling straight to the surface. Seeing other people the age she would be navigating life is a difficult thing. Where is Cory's happy ending?
I had my temper tantrums. I stomped around. I soothed myself the best I could. Once I had calmed down a little, I had another idea.
The thing about helping children with challenging behaviors is that, developmentally speaking, they often don't know why they are behaving the way they are. They often aren't able to tell you with words what it is that they need or desire. Helping them is dependent on good observation skills. That being said, shouldn't I be a little easier to figure out than a three year old? Dear Lord.
So I thought about what I need. My challenge is being positive. I need to want to live. I need to see there are still good things left to experience. I need to see. I am a visual person, through and through. Don't tell me something; show me. This brings me back to putting things in pictures.
I am keeping a monthly calendar in my Happiness Planner. Instead of crossing off each day when it's finished or leaving it blank- both of which are rather gloomy, if you really stop to think about it- I'm going to try a different approach: a picture a day keeps the suicidal impulses away. Each day, I will snap one picture of something I liked. It could be my beautiful cup of coffee; it could be Oliver, my orange tabby keeping me company; it could be Jacob. I think I'm going to try printing these off in little squares, and gluing each day's pic onto the calendar square when the day is done. Once the month is over, I will have a visual reminder of my bright spots. Thirty or so reasons to keep trying.
I'm going to stop right there, before my inner pessimist tells me those bright spots will be engulfed by the scope of my sorrow.
It's worth a try.
No comments:
Post a Comment