A Mother's Journey: Navigating Loss and Finding New Paths
In 2018, I was finally at a point in my life where I could technically and financially could do almost anything I wanted. Keep in mind that my wants at that time were rather simple: take showers with the door open, travel across the country listening to my favorite music, not rush home after work, find things exactly where I left them, etc. These things are silly to most, but since I was a young mother, I didn’t get to experience life in a traditional way. I was seventeen when I had my oldest son, 18 when I had my daughter and 25 when I had my youngest son. I did my best to financially provide for my children while maintaining a healthy work/life balance.
Our life was not perfect, but I am proud of our accomplishments. In the back of my mind, I always had the number 42 as a marker of when I was going to reach “freedom”. Not that the kids were a burden or that I wanted them gone, but more like a goal reaching age, a good stage. At 42, I was going to be on my own for the first time ever and not have to be the sole provider to others. My plan was to experience a different type of life, one where I could maybe be a little selfish and not worry about having to take care of others full time.
When my youngest moved out, the empty nest syndrome hit me hard, I didn’t know what to do with myself. All these years waiting for the forties and suddenly I was there! My career and employer allowed me to take a month's sabbatical and I finally went on my dream road trip across the country. I drove from Florida to California, Oregon, Washington, Montana and stopped in some other states. The entire time I was wishing my kids were there with me, I didn’t know how to be a person without them. I am pretty sure I was obnoxiously needy and sent them more pictures that they ever wanted or needed of me. It was taking me time to learn how to be me without them under my roof.
Two months after I returned from my cross-country road trip, my oldest son had a fatal motorcycle accident. I was home alone when the police officer showed up at my door to give me the news. If I allow my brain to revisit the memory of that moment, I can feel every detail of that night. My son Alex was twenty-four, he was healthy, funny and a very good kid. He was a young father and a basketball enthusiast. I miss him!
After his accident I was left to figure out a way to continue living. My first instinct was to figure out how to keep my professional life after trauma? So I submerged myself back into work. I used the pain as a motivator, I became fearless of failure.
Most people go through life searching for signs, I decided to make my own signs and followed my instincts. I knew that if I wanted to succeed or just feel useful again, I would have to take some serious risks. I mentally drafted the type of job I could do long term and really enjoy myself. I always wanted to try the financial consulting industry, my brain likes to stay busy, I work better while in chaos and disruption. Consulting gives me the opportunity to work with multiple companies at once, all with different challenges: rapid growth, cash flow, restructuring, merges, etc. These situations help me stay focused and alert, therefore I don’t have time to dwell in painful memories.
Life has an interesting way of making us deal with situations even when we try to avoid them.
In 2020, while I was working for a small firm in Seattle, I was assigned to a project with a local motorcycle dealer that had recently ceased operations. My coworkers and bosses at the time didn’t know much about my personal life, they didn’t know about Alex’s death. The assignment started out easy, it gave me the opportunity to work with another new consultant and one of the partners. I knew the work would keep my brain engaged, I was extremely excited to learn a new industry and a different aspect of business.
As I get myself merged in the project, I realize how well the brain works at compartmentalizing. At times, I could feel my motherly thoughts surface and almost control my mind. I would look at certain helmets or body protectors wondering if any of those items could have helped keep my Alex alive. Probably not though, as his accident was very tragic. Eventually, it got easier to be surrounded by motorcycles, helmets and bikers’ gear. Alex would have loved the store and everything in it!
During a walkthrough with my boss, I casually mentioned that my son was in a fatal motorcycle accident. It was almost a nonchalant comment without an emotional reaction or tears on my part. I wanted him to know in case something unexpectedly triggered an emotional response. This tends to happen, suddenly one small thing reminds me of my kid, and I can feel myself spiraling out of control. My life after Alex consists of living in the moment and constantly holding back tears. Spoken or written words can be medicine to some and poison to others. In my case, reading short passages helps me stay away from spiraling into depression.
A little over five years since I lost my kid, some days I don’t want to get up or go to work or do anything, but I get up anyway. Keeping up with career goals and life can be challenging when you are facing emotional pain. Having to continually find strength during your weakest moments changes your outlook towards life. It’s exhausting. Since I have ignored dealing with grief by staying busy, grief has started to come at me physically. My body feels tired, I still don’t sleep well and lately, my eyesight has deteriorated dramatically.
Luckily, I am currently working for a great public accounting firm that has allowed me to reduce my workload until I figure out my health.
The next few months, I will work 30 hours a week and the rest of my time will be spent doing some healing.
Thank you for reading my letters.