I hear this so much. It seems like every time I have a real moment of connectivity with someone or get to spend a little while talking about their issues for a few minutes, I get slammed back to inner space. In their minds, their problems are not relatable to la grande tragedie. I am other. They can’t possibly share my space. I am probably not even human anymore, devoid of empathy for a failed furnace or a bad boss or their own child’s problems.
This is so demoralizing. Yes, I have lost my child. Which is, several people have told me, the most stressful experience “on the list of stressful experiences.” (They are not correct, actually. The most stressful experience on the Social Readjustment Rating Scale is the death of a spouse, and divorce and incarceration also rate higher than the death of a close family member. So there’s that. But I guess their assumption speaks to the fears of parents everywhere.)
People used to do the same little dance around Sarah’s special needs, so maybe that’s why it’s triggering me. The “I could never do what you do” or “You are such an amazing mom” when you are doing nothing but putting a Cheerio in your child’s mouth. WTF?
I don’t really know what I want.
Yes, I have to say, nothing feels satisfying right now. There is no right way for other people to treat me. I’ve put other people in a totally impossible position. But maybe being pissed off is a lot easier than being sad all the time.
The First Year Without Sarah 