Triggers

People will fail you. If that is the only thing you get from this post - it will be helpful.

I do not say "fail" in the typical you flunk a test way. I know that generally the word "fail" has a negative tone. Yes, it can be negative but it I also say this to allow yourself and others a little bit of grace. People are generally compassionate. They generally care. Unfortunately, child loss is something that not a lot of people experience, and it becomes this dark fog no one understands how to navigate. People will say things that they honestly think will make you feel better. Nothing does. There is no magic sentence or statement that will alleviate your pain. Trust me, I wish there was. Even if the constant weight lifted for a second, it would be joyous.

Throughout my child loss journey, I have experienced triggers. Everyone will. I completely blocked out the outside world in the days, weeks, and months following Bennett's death to try to avoid them. If anyone spoke of their child, I would feel the blood in my veins begin to bubble, they would shake violently, the goosebumps would raise, my throat would close a little tighter, my eyes would burn and eventually all of those emotions and things I felt inside my body would explode. I would break down, uncontrollably. I could not hide it. I could not stop it. I was ashamed of it. I would run to another room. Excuse myself and go to my car. Anything to get away during that moment. Did that person mean to "trigger" me - absolutely not. Most people had no idea I had lost my son recently. I was scared to talk about it. I was scared of my triggers and the emotions that followed. I was learning my new self, my new emotions, my new perspectives. I was triggered by simple things and complicated things. I was like a 3-year-old toddler experiencing those "big emotions" for the first time. It sucked. I never went back to the house I was living in with Bennett (except the last night we had it), mostly to avoid the triggers and the pain.

As the months passed, I began to learn a few things. I began to learn how to manage those emotions a little better. I began to feel them coming on, I was able to futurize a conversation with someone and guide it away from my triggers. I learned to focus better on what I was doing without allowing my mind to propel me back to the moment I lost Bennett. I was not always successful, but I began to trust myself with my emotions. I did not feel the shame if they did come up. I would apologize for my tears and explain that I had recently lost my son. This is when I learned people will fail you.

The responses I got when I finally felt enough self-courage and confidence to mention my child had died are mind-boggling. "I'm so sorry. I just lost my pet." "Oh, I know how you feel. My uncle passed away two years ago." "What happened?" "Was he sick?" Some questions pulled out their muscles, flung them towards my soul, and crushed me. Are you really comparing losses? Are you actually asking me what happened to my son? Do you not realize how hard it is for me to breath moment to moment much less relive the absolute worst moment I have ever experienced? I just could not believe how forward people were. Could they not tell I was struggling? Could they not see how weak I was? I could barely put one foot in front of the other during most of my day. They failed to see me. They failed to grasp the whole tragedy. They failed.

I distinctly remember sitting in my rental car one day and calling one of my work friends who had also lost a child a few years before Bennett. I had met her walking into a cath lab one day. She worked for a sister company, and we hit it off immediately. I was still breast feeding and had asked her if she knew where a refrigerator was to store my milk. She smiled said of course, walked me to a break room, and made a joke of how difficult it is to keep up with breastfeeding while traveling. I of course then asked about her children and she immediately responded with "I have one in heaven and one here in my arms" and moved quickly on with our conversation. I will never forget how brave and strong I thought she was. Our friendship developed quickly after that day. We just got each other. If I had only known how much I would rely on her in the near future. I called her this particular day because I had been triggered and I just needed to talk to someone who understood me. Who got it. I remember telling her "I just feel like I am having an out of body experience when I am talking to others. Watching myself just nod. Watching myself talk to people while strategically planning when and how my atomic bomb of reality will be brought up and laid nicely in their lap. Then having to wait for their response. I always apologize." She responded "Krysten, why do you care? You have no control of other people's emotions. This is your story and if you want to share Bennett you have every right too. Never apologize for talking about him." It clicked. Right there in that moment. I have no control in people's responses. I have no control in their shocked face when I speak of Bennett, I have no control. What I do have control of is myself, Bennett's story and growing awareness of child loss. And so, my tool belt grew.

People will fail you because they do not understand. People will fail you in the statements they make and the questions they ask. We are all human. Child loss is a tragedy. Child loss is unthinkable to most so I cannot expect everyone to be able to navigate this journey with me. What I can do, is speak freely about Bennett on my own terms. It is ok to say "thank you for asking. Unfortunately, I am just not at a place I can answer that." Then one day, that same question will be asked, and you will be able to calmly talk about it without the trigger.

My triggers the first year were numbing. I would be set off daily. The grenade laid deep within my chest just waiting to be activated. Through that first year I grew a lot. I did not put expectations on myself or on other people. I tried my best to begin to except my new self. I would never be the woman I was on June 3, 2018. She died with Bennett. I was new. I had a new story, a new future and a new purpose. Each year that has passed my tool belt of coping mechanisms continues to grow. I still have triggers but some of them actually have positive emotions. They take me back to laughter and fun times with Bennett. I embrace my triggers because I have also realized they are not all bad. They are a way to let all of your emotions out. I hate when I have a break down, but I also feel so much better following them. They are like a release.