grief, trauma, and PTSD

I have been through some random shit in my life but nothing like this.

This loss and this process of grief are like no other loss I have encountered. I have learned things about myself. About grief. About surviving trauma and PTSD. And this is even before I start my own counseling process. I truly am not looking forward to that either.

But some of what I have learned has come from just surviving for the past 10 weeks. Some has been wisdom shared by the girlfriend, C, from her career field. Trauma changes your brain. It explains why I remember some things from that night but not others. Why I remember the words from the officer but not his face…even though he was standing directly in front of me. Why I remember hearing Bryce’s dad’s reaction over the phone but don’t remember mine other than knowing that I collapsed onto the ground. I remember it being ice cold that night. So fucking cold. But I don’t remember any of the people other than Rory. I remember Carter texting me at 11:30pm. Asking where I went. And I started crying again because I thought for the first time about how I’d have to tell him. I don’t remember driving home. I do remember calling my best friend, though I didn’t mean to call her. I just sat down on my couch and did it without thinking. It was the middle of the night so she knew something was wrong and when I just started crying, she said “I am on my way” and hung up.

Trauma and PTSD throw your brain into fight, flight, or freeze. Your brain becomes disorganized. Some parts of it almost “shut down” to protect you. You literally enter survival mode.

When people speak of triggers, they are being serious. When someone is dealing with trauma or PTSD, whether it is from abuse, loss, or any other reason, they are susceptible to triggers.

I am triggered often. Yes, I am dealing with grief. The grief of losing my son. The grief of the loss. But I am also often triggered by my grief. Sometimes it is from a photo. Or a smell. Or a funny story or show. Or hearing or seeing a motorcycle.

However, it is more than that for me. I have not had a professional diagnosis but it feels like there is an element of trauma or PTSD as well. Sometimes, when I close my eyes, my brain replays that night and I see myself driving up to the intersection, I see the lights from so many police cars, and I see the blockades. It makes me sick to my stomach. I still feel anxiety when I drive through that intersection. I feel anxious if I have to speak about too many details. I feel anxious if I have to speak of it for too long. I feel anxious when I approach traffic and police lights. I feel anxious when I stop and think about the details of that night. Sometimes the smell of the blanket from his bed is a comfort to me but sometimes I immediately break down crying. Is that just the grief or is that trauma or are they the same? I have no fucking clue.

Just like I will never be the exact same person I was before losing my son, my brain will never be the same as it was before. I am sure therapy might help some. Time might help some. But nothing will ever fully heal me from a loss like this. I will always have a hole in my heart where Bryce should be.