This is the title of the book that I wrote. It is a memoir that covers the death of my daughter and the 2 1/2 years that followed. During that time in my life it was all about me. Grief can cause some pretty intense, self centered, all about me, way of thinking. The title is fitting.
I remember needing to return to work and went back two weeks after she died. I was a home visiting nurse and my job was very intimate. My co-workers were concerned that it would be too much for me. I gave them a list of people to contact and set some appointments. I chose people whose lives were the most chaotic. This would seem like the worst people to choose, but quite the contrary. Their lives were so burdensome that they didn’t ask how I was or what was going on in my life. I was able to get through that hour, focusing on them, not having to share or explain things. I didn’t want their attention, I just wanted to do my job. It was a pitiful existence for awhile but it worked.
Fast forward to now. I see children that live in that burdensome world. A world where there sole purpose is to survive. They act out in school or are withdrawn. Most often their parents live in that world too. Not connecting with the child, much like they didn’t connect with me all of those years ago. I try to be the buffer in that 30 minutes I spend with them. Attempting to speak for the child and advocating in what little way I can. It is hard not to blame the parents but I know they can’t hear me. Trauma is rampant in our society and we don’t see it. We do, but we don’t recognize it. It could be the mom at Walmart that flips out on her kid, the child that is constantly disruptive or in trouble, the girl at the drive through window that just can’t seem to get your order right.
Am I perfect? Do I remember these things while interacting with them? Not always, but I do try to be patient and to remember that for now It’s not all about me.
Unapologetically Pretty 