It took me some courage, burning my last bit of mental energy to write this piece. But I kept imagining if I were to be gone tomorrow, this would be the article I regret not writing.
Writing. This is what I’ve got left, or should I say, the only source I trust in processing pain.
Losing a Loved One
What do people tell you when you lose a loved one? “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Or do they give an empathetic look and say, “I’m here if you need anything.”
Need what? Can you make my brother come back to life? Of course, I’m not allowed to think or say this. I just smiled politely and put my days off to attend the funeral on a team calendar, promising to finish all my work before taking off.
“I understand how you feel. When I lost my person…” No, you don’t. Everyone’s grief is different. It’s nice that you want to share your experience with me, but when I am still processing the raw grief, I don’t want to be put in a position where I’m pressured to empathize with your grief.
I wonder if I am having unrealistic expectations of people or if I am redirecting anger towards death, and lashing out on random innocent souls.
Social Expectations
After planning and attending the funeral, society almost expects us to get back to work and function at a 100% normal rate. Death is inevitable and happens to everyone. We understand that, yet when it hasn’t happened to us or our loved ones, we think it’s just an event you can “move on” and “get it over with.”
The truth is you can never move on from grief. It stays with you, every day. From the moment you lose the person, everything everywhere will remind you of them, you’ll laugh thinking about the reaction they would’ve had, and suddenly get a heartache realizing it was all a fantasy, the person is not coming back.
“You could’ve sent a Slack message and let us know,” a coworker from a different team got on the call with me the Monday I got back.
I remember landing at Sea-Tac Sunday night and logging on first thing Monday morning, quickly reporting a bug in the system to the engineers. That’s when I got responses like “You should tell us about this when you first find out” and how the engineers check the Slack channel even on weekends.
“Yeah, I just found out about this 5 min ago and I was at my brother’s funeral on the weekend. I couldn’t bring my laptop with me,” I said, holding back my tears.
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.”
Thank you for reminding me that my grief is mine. No one is supposed to be kinder to me just because I lost someone I love. The world doesn’t get easier. I still have bills to pay and work to go to, that’s just how society works.
“It’s not his fault. He didn’t know.” I convinced myself and smiled. I pushed myself way too hard. But you know what, from my brother dying to his funeral, I lost the ability to cry.
This conversation with my coworker was the first time I felt a sourness rising from the back of my throat and overtaking my vision.
Autopilot Mode without Support
Soon, I fell into a highly functional state of not remembering anything I did. My brain had gotten so foggy I simply could not repeat what was said to me seconds ago. I had gotten in and out of the meetings not remembering I was in them. I blamed myself and forced myself to read every email five times, to stay professional and stay “well.”
Rest? I know I should take some rest, but money doesn’t fall out of the tree. Washington state law does not require employers to provide bereavement leave. When I reached out to my agency, they simply said there was no paid leave I could take. All they had was three free sessions with a counseling service company.
Better than nothing, I thought to myself and signed up. When I matched with the only therapist whose time matched, I experienced some technical issues on the day of the session and missed the first 20 min. The therapist and I got in touch soon after, and I asked her if it was ok to continue the session, but she denied it. As a result, I was charged an extra amount of $200 for not showing up on time.
It was supposed to be a free session, but the “support” ended up adding another layer of mental and financial stress. I simply had no energy to argue back and forth.
Something was Wrong
There started to be days and weeks where I was stuck in the bed, or a corner of the sofa, just lying there, not scrolling my phone, not sleeping. I had my eyes open, but I was not there.
The dissociation in the day and nightmares in the night made me question the existence of my life. I was angry at why things happened, knowing there had been deeper scars.
I had random pain here and there. Nothing was getting better. I started tearing up in the middle of writing a work email, not even thinking about what happened. My brain, body, and mind weren’t on the same channel. I knew something was wrong.
I was re-reading the final conversation between my brother and me, unwrapping all the C-PTSD experiences and stress we got from our family. I endured the “survival guilt” of living but felt relieved that my brother was no longer in emotional or physical pain.
Anger towards the System
I was recommended by my previous therapist to find a trauma specialist and consider taking medication. I wanted to disappear and give up, but my body wouldn’t let me.
I had promised my brother to live and die naturally no matter what. So, I used my insurance company’s search and realized mental health support was not affordable, a fact I had known by heart since years ago with a different insurance company. I was recommended to have weekly sessions and that just was not financially possible. I could never meet the deductible to benefit from the insurance, and that was one of the few options I had provided by my job. I had no choice but to end up paying my new therapist out of pocket.
At the same time, I realized my pharmacy was billing me $450 for 28-day birth control ever since switching the insurance. I ended up calling the insurance company, was put on hold for hours, and told to be transferred, got put on hold for longer, denied.
“That’s just the way your insurance is.” the lady said politely on the phone.
My feelings went from anger to disappointment, and nothing. I felt numb. I wasn’t going to pay the $450 pill on top of my out-of-pocket therapy fee. The good thing is I had friendly providers who supported me and wrote a medical appeal. I had to fight and explain to both departments the Right to Contraception and how I should get the pill at no cost.
Delay Grieving
I thought I was getting better, but no I wasn’t. As of today, I still am angry at myself. There are many times I blame myself for not doing things good enough, for wasting time, and days, sitting there.
I still cannot rest properly. I don’t sleep well. Just like most people, I scroll on my phone and get reminders that are conflicting.
“You have all the time in the world. It’s OK” and also “Time slips away. You need to act now.”
I am guilty of taking time off to heal but I’m also guilty of not taking action to improve, not realizing proper healing itself is an improvement.
One should never delay their grieving. It’ll backfire and eat you up with even bigger flame, leaving just unfixable broken pieces.
Modern poet diary – healing journey 001
To be continued…
@ahcpoetry #amyhsuanchiu
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