Healing

I've spent a lot of time thinking about the word "healing." At first, I thought it meant I would feel completely better someday, that I would no longer feel sad, anxious, angry, etc. about losing my daughter, that I would stop flashing back to the day she died, saying goodbye to her at the hospital, the days leading up to the memorial, and the months afterward that passed in a blur.

I later decided that emotional healing is a lot like physical--there is always a scar. Both my daughters were born via c-section. The scar is small, even after two surgeries, a faint line that can't be seen even when I wear a bikini. But it's there, as is a raised area directly above it, which is where the scar tissue is. Sometimes, when I get sweaty or overheated, the scar itches. Otherwise, I don't think about it too often.

I'm assuming that someday, that's where emotional healing will get me--my daughter's death will affect me only sometimes. I can already tell that I think about it--her accident, all the things she didn't get to do, the fact that she's gone forever--less than I used to. I never thought I'd get back into the other things in life, but somehow I have.

HOWEVER, when I do remember--when I flash back to that day, to finding her, to being in the hospital--I'm hit hard. It's like I'm back there. It's the experience without the cushion provided by shock. I suppose that's what counseling is for. I started going right after she died and I do think it's helped.

An emotional injury isn't like a physical one. You break your leg, people see your cast and give you a break. Even after you heal, you may have a scar that people will ask you about when they notice it. Most people have no idea what I've been through. Sometimes that's good--I need to get through life without being completely raw and emotional all the time. Other times I wish I could wear my broken heart on my sleeve. Maybe if everyone else could see it, and be appropriately sensitive, maybe some days would be easier.