Triggers

Every time that I write a post here, I want to start with a reminder. A reminder to myself and others. Grief is personal. Grief has no time limit. Grief cannot be denied. Grief is not always bad, it is a connection to those we have lost.

I was watching the show Bones last night. A young man had died, it seemed with no family or close friends. Before he died he wrote a love song to a woman he had fallen in love with. The investigator gave the woman the song and she asked him why he had given it to her. He told her that she needed to listen to it and miss the young man, because someone needed to mourn his passing. We need grief to mourn, to remember.

This week I was reminded that those living with grief are not always in control. Places or events can trigger us, and bring up the pain, We live with little triggers that bring the sadness closer to the surface. There are bigger triggers that have us crying again with longing. Then there are triggers that throw us out of ourselves and back to a dark place.

Tuesday night I was out with a group of friends for dinner, and it was a good day. I felt connected to them, surrounded by friends who shared history with me, and who could make me think and laugh again.

I was replaying the night in my head, smiling and feeling settled, when I pulled into my garage and was overwhelmed with a stench. I immediately was worried. It was not natural. It was,I thought, the smell of rotten eggs. Looking up on line confirmed my worst fears - gas leak smells like rotten eggs. I called 911 and they told me to leave the house immediately and they would be right there. I grabbed the pups got in the car and pulled across the road.

From that moment on, I was not myself. I could not think. I paced to the garage and back. My life with CJ was in my house. His urn was in my house. It was everything I could do not to give in to go back in to bring everything out.

The firemen came and they were amazing. Checking every corner of the house, taking readings of the oxygen levels, the carbon dioxide levels. They probably didn't understand why I was so none responsive. They finally got through to me that all was well and I could go back in. It turned out that the smell was coming from some compost I had brought home days earlier - it produces methane and carbon dioxide. After they left, I took it and threw it outside.

I struggled to come back to myself after they left. It was like my mind was in two places. Reliving the loss of CJ, while trying to accept that all was well. That this was not losing him again. I actually can't describe how it felt. The trigger had hit me with no warning, and all I could do was ride it out, to try to find some equilibrium when I could.

I have described my life here as a grief journey but I think that description is not quite right. A journey implies a destination. There is no destination. There is just the work to carry this and honour these feelings. My grief honouring CJ. That gives me the strength to accept when these events happen.

After a couple of hours I had brought myself back to the now. The trigger had not taken me down. I had accepted the feelings, worked through them, and put them away. Another day in my life, taking solice in my ability to handle this “ journey”