I’m really good at remembering anything involving numbers. Anniversaries. Birthdays. Phone numbers. Street addresses. Random stats about my favorite athletes. I just have always remembered them easily. This week had two important dates for me. Based off of the title, I’ll let you guess why the dates are important.
June 9th, 2022 was the first time I went to therapy. I remember driving to the appointment praying that it would work out with this therapist I was going to meet. I’m pretty sure I said something along the lines of “this is it Lord. I’m giving this one shot. If it doesn’t work out with this lady, I’m out.” My anxiety was through the roof and that was before I pulled into the parking lot and realized the terrible parking situation. The one time I don’t google the place to check out the parking situation ahead of time would be the day I was already emotionally on edge.
I don’t remember much about that first appointment. I remember telling my therapist that the next day would have been my brother’s birthday. It was the first one that he would be in Heaven for. I remember lots of tears. Lots of hard questions from my now therapist. The Lord blessed me by letting it work out with my first therapist, apparently that’s not always the case. When I left my appointment, I went home, laid in my bed, and proceeded to sleep the rest of the day. If it’s a thing, I woke up sleep drunk several hours later to go to worship team practice. I know I got there, but the act of getting to practice, no recollection of it.
Monday marked the 3rd anniversary of my journey in therapy. I told a friend that my therapist deserves a bonus or a raise or something for dealing with me and my nonsense for this long. Sometimes I find myself frustrated with the fact we still circle back to some of the same topics we hit during my first few sessions. But then I’m reminded of how far I’ve really come in all of the things. Do I still have lots of room for growth, absolutely, but don’t we all?
Not to sound dramatic, but I really believe the Lord used therapy and my therapist to save my life. Was I planning to off myself? No. Self-harm had been on the table at one point because the pain I was in didn’t make sense to me, but I knew the pain from an open wound or burn would make sense. To say I was severely depressed is an understatement. I was quickly spiraling and had come to the point where I didn’t know what to do anymore nor did I really care. Depression is a hard battle to fight, and it’s not a battle everyone wins. Did therapy automatically cure or fix me? Absolutely not. If anything, I think I got worse at first. But, then I started to process and work through things. I started to get tools in my tool box to help me when things got hard. I’m still processing, working through things, and getting tools in my tool box to help with all the things in life, but there is no doubt in my mind that I am not the same person I was when I started therapy 3 years ago. As long as I still have breath in my lungs, praise be to God that He’s not done with or in me yet.
June 10th was/is my oldest brother’s birthday. I’m never sure how to answer that question. It was the day we celebrated him and his new year of life, but it is still technically his birthday even though he’s no longer alive, right? Thomas would have been 39 on Tuesday. We should have been able to celebrate him either last weekend or this coming weekend, but that’s not something we get to do anymore.
When you learn about or experience grief, people always talk about the harder days. Birthdays. Anniversary of your persons’ death. Holidays in general. Then depending on the loss, there are even more special days. I know myself well enough to know that Thomas’ birthday is always going to affect me in someway. In the last 4 years, I’ve not remembered my brother’s birthday or been effected by the day the same. I’m always prepared for the worse case scenario though. I send out my texts for people to be praying for me either the day of or the night before. Not because I think it’ll actually happen, but because if for some reason, I am overcome with sadness that day, I have a plan. I am ready for it. My people know and they are on standby should I need some extra support.
This year my state decided to have a special election which served as some sort of distraction. I had to be at work so I wasn’t able to hide from people. I had to be present and face whatever emotions would present themselves. I bought Thomas a new Star Wars cup. I took the cup and 36 roses to his grave. The roses looked great in his new C3PO cup. I bought some cake to share with the people at work in honor of Thomas. I’m sure this was a God thing, but starting Monday night well into Tuesday, my Spotify daylists were consistently made up of songs that Thomas loved and would often listen to.
There were less tears this year. They were still present, but not as extreme. I was still “griefy” on and off throughout the day, but I was still able to function like a normal person. Just as I can see growth in the therapeutic process, I can also see how far I’ve come with grief and the hard days. I’m thankful for the growth. I’m thankful for the Lord’s sustaining grace and mercy. If you find yourself in a tough season, just keep going. It’s hard, I know. It may seem like it will never end, but don’t give up. Keep doing the work. One day, you’ll be able to look back and see how far you’ve really come.
Do I still miss my brother? Absolutely. Is therapy still hard? Yep. But I’ve seen growth in both. So on the days where it seems I’ve circle backed to my bad habits or am overcome with the sense of loss, I’ll remind myself of how far I’ve come. I’ll remind myself that it’s okay to have those “bad” days, but that they no longer define me. Those “bad” days are few and far between. The Lord was faithful to sustain me in those “bad” days, and He will continue to do so no matter what kind of day it is.
Happy belated 4th birthday in Heaven, Thomas. I’m sure your birthdays are far greater now than they ever were here on earth.
Grief. Going. Healing. 
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