When someone we love dies, it hits us hard. When it’s our child, it annihilates us. It’s not surprising then, that traumatic grief makes us feel we’re going crazy. Often, and understandably, we turn to medical professionals for help.
When my son was killed, I didn’t know how to manage my suffering. Two months post-loss, I went to my physician and she asked me:
“Are you sick, or are you grieving?”
I looked at her. I saw the problem. Who decides? What are the criteria?
So I answered: “Part of me has died and it hurts so much I don’t think I can make it.”
I was in excruciating pain. In the first years after Alex was murdered, I often felt like I was actually having a heart attack my heart was so broken. But I knew I wasn’t depressed. I was in shock and then later, utterly lost in deep, traumatic grief.