A Little Compassion

It's all well and good that organizations provide their employees with bereavement leave, and I understand not all do so this is a luxury and not necessarily a right.  But when they do provide it there are so many policies surrounding it that it is almost a hassle to use it, not what you need in a time of loss.  Those who don't have it, should, it provides piece of mind to their employees...as long as you pay attention to what I have to say here.

Most places only cover what they call "immediate family", but everyone has a different definition of "immediate family".  For some it is just spouse, parents, and children.  For others they extend it out to brothers and sisters, grandparents, aunts, uncles, even cousins.  For some it only covers your family, for others it covers your spouse's family as well.  Some cover step, some don't.

But here is what none of them take into account...Your relationship with the deceased.  Nobody cares that the person who died had a huge impact on you growing up, or that was the one person who inspired and helped you go to college, or that was the one person in your family you truly connected to.  Who cares if that one person was a second cousin, a great great aunt, a great grandmother, or some other "distant" relative.

It is assumed that people live in the 1950's nuclear family environment still.  Mom, dad, and kids live together in their little pod, and the rest of the families all live in their little pods and everyone gets together for Christmas, Easter, and maybe a Summer Reunion.  Guess what?  That's not the reality anymore, and hasn't been for a while.  Reality is more and more families are living together in multi-generational homes.  More and more people are seeing the benefits of spending time with their elders and gaining the knowledge of the past from them. 

And then you also have the other aspect, not every family has a nice, pretty, perfect family tree.  My family tree would look like a gnarly old oak tree if you were to map it out with two of  my great aunts being born just before my mom and being closer in age to her than her own younger sisters, so naturally she was closer to them and so was I.  My family tree also comes with trap doors, tree houses and zip lines, because you just never know what nut is going to shake loose whenever you start asking questions about family history.  The point is though there are some whose leaves are within poking distance that I have probably only spent hours with in my entire life, whereas there are others that I would have to scamper across the entire tree to get to that I spent so much time learning from and loving their company yet when the one I barely know passes I can get bereavement leave without a second glance, and the one who was the bigger influence on my life I have to find a way to get time off some other way.

Yes, I know there would probably be a couple who would abuse the system if it was opened up wider.  And honestly for those who family means so much, like me, it would make times of loss less stressful and more productive at work.  Instead of offering the 24 hours of leave being offered for "Immediate Family" perhaps they could offer just 8 hours for Extended Family, just so someone can attend the services.  It just seems so cold for this giant organism to decide who is most important to me based on dilution of blood.  If you are going to go by that then they are equally as unimportant because nobody has the same bloody parents!

Journal Post: A Dark Realization

I am going to step off of my soapbox for a few minutes and focus on me.  This past weekend, with the help of my fiancé, my best friend, and my therapist, I came to a very dark realization; my views on death are horrific at best.  It's no wonder I struggle with the deaths of those I love.  It's no wonder I mourn for so long and so deeply.  With what I finally was able to admit to myself and others this weekend, it's no wonder that I fear death so much and view death as the enemy.

I know I have talked about death on here before on this post.  But at that time I could only vocalize my fear and hatred for death; I couldn't, or wouldn't vocalize why.  I struggled with not understanding or knowing what happens when we die, or at least I thought I did, and my analytical brain couldn't accept on faith that we just go to "a better place" and that everything magically turns out sunshine and roses.

I brought up this struggle to my therapist and he, being the fabulously sneaky psychologist that he is that I am so grateful I have found, asked a series of questions that led me to finally voice what I had been hiding for so long.  What I really think happens when someone dies. 

You see I view death as this horrific act, something that isn't peaceful or pleasant.  I think when someone dies the pain continues, the physical and emotional.  I think that person is then forced to watch as their loved ones suffer the loss of them, and they also feel the loss of their loved ones.  I think the pain is like a ripping force unlike any other we could ever imagine, and I think the sense of loss of life is unimaginable.  I don't find any comfort in death.

This, of course, explains a whole lot about why death affects me so much and why I grieve so deeply.  It also is not very healthy, and I get that.  My therapist says I am stuck in a sort of purgatory, especially after having lost so many people in my life.  He says that with each loss my theory on what happens we die gets stronger, and as my theory gets stronger my grief gets worse.  So basically I am in a vicious cycle and I can't get out on my own.  Basically I am living in my own personal hell that my mind created based on my experiences with death, that and my extremely over active imagination despite the lack of horror movies, books, or any other overly graphic input.

All of this also explains a lot of my nightmares about separation and loss.  It explains all of the horrendous things that happen to my friends and family when I close my eyes, whether I am awake or asleep.  It may also explain my severe separation anxiety.  So basically, if I could find a way to work through this...it could break down a lot of the barriers that are holding me back in life. 

I know it won't be easy.  I know it's going to mean challenging myself and confronting a lot of fears head on.  I also know I have people by my side who love me and will be there for me through it all no matter what.  And I love them for it.

Fear of What Should be Safety

Everyday my three beautiful girls go off to public schools.  These institutions have always been a place where kids are supposed to be safe from the dangers of the world.  I mean besides bullying, which I know from personal experience can get pretty darn ugly, in general schools are supposed to be safe havens from the general nastiness of the world.  But more and more lately I have questioned that, and even begun to actively fear sending my girls to school.  It really feels like every time I turn around there is another school shooting, or another one that is planned and the police happen to stop because someone tips them off.  It's getting so out of control.  I don't ever remember this many major acts of senseless violence in schools when I was growing up.  In fact the Columbine school shooting happened after I graduated high school, and it seems like we have gone seriously downhill from there.

Today, another one.  This one in Marysville, WA, not all that far from my area.  Not much is known right now other than two people have had to be flown out by helicopter and the shooter is dead.  Last year there was another one even closer to us in Gresham, OR where both the shooter and another young man lost their lives.  Both of these and all the others are senseless tragedies that never needed to happen.  In the end all we are left with is the question of why?  We can all guess at the answers.  Maybe the shooter left a note or clues, and maybe they didn't.  Maybe there was a history of bullying or mental illness, and then again maybe not.  But if we can't answer why then how can we prevent them?

I have been saying for a long time the answer lies in early detection and prevention of mental illness and bullying prevention.  Now granted I just said above maybe we wouldn't have known, and I think the reason for that is the people that are interacting most with these kids are not trained to look for the subtle signs that things are not going so well for them.  Everyone keeps jumping up and down screaming about gun control or arming the teachers or more police in the schools or more security measures like metal detectors.  Then again, maybe not.  These things aren't going to prevent an incident they are made to react to an incident.

Instead I think we need to create programs in our schools where teachers are trained to look for signs of mental illness, signs of behavior change.  They need to look for the subtle signs of bullying and learn to address them appropriately.  There needs to be a referral system so potentially at risk students can be screened further and put into a program with specialists to help them work through their issues.  Parent involvement in these programs would be crucial and additional training and literature would need to be made available to them as well.  Would this program be costly?  Sure it's not going to come cheap, but can we really put a price on the health and well being of our children let alone their lives? 

It's obvious more force is not working.  Meeting fire with fire is not the answer.  Let's try meeting fire with water and try putting the flame out before it turns into a raging inferno and we are left to deal with the aftermath.  I for one am terrified of being the parent that gets the call that my child's school has had an active shooting.  I am terrified of one of my girls getting hurt in an incident like this.  I want my children, and all children to be safe at school and everywhere in society.  I also want the children to get the help they need earlier in life because early intervention in mental illnesses means you are less likely to have someone with serious psychological issues down the road.  You have a better chance of having a contributing member of society when they become an adult.  Our prisons are full of people with mental illness.  If we can get to them before it fully manifests and becomes an issue and help them get early treatment maybe we can even keep them out of prison and lower our crime rate.  Now wouldn't that be something?

I'm not saying this is the key to solving all our societal problems.  What I am saying is it's time to reform the way we look at mental illness and start using opportunities we have in interacting with young people as early intervention.  Will we catch them all?  Probably not.  Will it solve everything?  No.  Will there still be acts of violence?  I'm sure.  But if we can save even one life wouldn't it be worth it?  What's the price of one child's life?

Death Does Not Become Me

Death is my nemesis.  I despise death, I loathe death.  And yes, I fear death.  I get it, it's part of the circle of life, we all have to die sometime, we can't live forever, it's part of the natural progression of things, blah blah blahtity fucking blah.  I don't care.  Death and I are not friends.  We never really have been.

I remember my first real experience with death, I was 5.  My mom and I flew from our home in Southern Illinois to San Diego, CA.  It was exciting for me as a kid.  My first airplane ride, the first real big trip, that I remember.  But the reason sucked.  My great-great grandmother had passed away and we were going to her funeral.  I was going to see family that hadn't seen me since I was really little, so for me it was like meeting them for the first time, and for some they were meeting me for the first time.  I kind of remember mom trying to explain death to me, and I kind of remember sort of understanding it, but not really.  Then we went to the actual funeral.  Everyone was dressed in really nice clothes, but they were almost all in black.  And everyone looked so sad.  I remember a lot of talking, and music, and crying.  And then everyone got in a line to walk by this big fancy box at the front.  Being so small I couldn't really see into it from where I was.  I remember mom saying I didn't have to go up to see her if I didn't want to, but again me not totally understanding what was going on thought I was going to be meeting another relative.  So I went up.  That's when I saw her, laying there, dead.  I started crying inconsolably.  That's when I first comprehended what death really was.  The body was still there, but the person was gone.  It was a terrifying experience.  I remember having dreams about great-great grandma's face for a long while after that.

It was only a couple of years later that I experienced my next loss, this time it was my beloved dog, Andy, quickly followed by our pet snake, Thora.  Both animals had been in my life since birth, and both were a big blow to me.  And while I never saw the bodies of my cherished friends the mention of their deaths brought back the image of great-great grandma lying lifeless in her casket.  Since then through the years I have experienced losses of varying degrees, from a classmate who was struck by a car in the 5th grade to my aunt on my dad's side who died on cancer and then was closely followed by my granddad.  My mom's brother also died, and that one was rough too.  And to be honest I've never really recovered from one death before another one strikes.  That rang true more than ever a few years ago.

In the course of a year my family lost 4 people that were very close to us, including my step dad, Ron, who I lovingly call Pops.  Pops has been the hardest death of them all.  Because I was there.  I was there in the cold sterile hospital when he took his last breath and his heart stopped beating.  Granted, he was surrounded by family and friends, but it was a horrible experience.  The doctors said he was medicated enough that he was comfortable and felt no pain, but watching him struggle to breathe those last few breaths was so painful for me.  I felt helpless to do anything but stand there and hold his hand and cry.  And to this day all I can do is cry.  I almost wish I hadn't been there because I hate that I remember him like that.  I don't want those images in my head.  I want to remember him smiling and laughing, but I can't.  I can't make those images of him gasping for air go away.  I can't make the images of us watching the monitors as his heart stopped beating go away.  And I hate it, I hate death for taking him away like that.  I hate people who say death is peaceful.  It's not, I have seen it.  There was nothing peaceful about it. 

And I despise it when people tell me I am weak for not being able to grieve faster.  I will grieve at my own damn pace thank you very much and you can just live with it or go away.  There is nothing wrong with me, I am who I am.  Just because I process death differently doesn't make me wrong or weak or broken.  Everyone is different, and everyone grieves differently.  How would you like it if I said that you grieve too fast so you must be a cold hearted bastard with no feelings at all?  Sorry, slight off topic rant.

So, with all of that being said one would think I would stay as far away from death as I could right?  You want to take a wild guess at what I do for a living?  Just one little guess?  I work in death fucking benefits!  Yep that's right I work in death benefits for a pension program.  I deal with families every day that have just lost a loved one.  I talk to their spouses, their kids, their parents.  I listen to them cry and yes, even scream.  And then people wonder why I am always so close to a freaking mental breakdown.  Yeah...