The idea behind a trigger warning is to help make people aware that the content of whatever they are about to face- be it a meeting, piece of writing, tv show- could contain potentially sensitive material that could have an effect on their wellbeing. They can be considered controversial- should we avoid things that are triggering or try to reduce our sensitivity to them?- but nowadays they've become a large part of everyday life with social media content.
I can see the need for them. Knowing when there will be fireworks for PTSD sufferers; warning of explicit scenes of violence in tv shows that could be distressing for assault/ abuse survivors; Trigger warnings can allow us to choose whether we expose ourselves to potentially difficult or uncomfortable topics and can help those affected avoid very stressful or damaging situations.
What no-one prepares you for is how grief, in all it's forms, can make everything need a trigger warning. It can be complex and prolonged, and many of the thought process and reactions in grief, particularly traumatic grief, are typical of PTSD itself.
It is almost two years since Martin died, and I still have to mentally prepare myself for more situations than I care to admit. Some are obvious- certain days are harder than others, birthdays, holidays, anniversaries; different chores that need to happen, such as just after he died and there was lots of different admin to be completed (Let me tell you- using your married name for the first time as a widow, registering your husband's death, is a very strange thing to do.) At the moment I am currently packing up to move house in the next few weeks, and this has brought up a lot of difficult emotions for myself and the kids, so I am very grateful that this is something that can be done in stages so we can prepare ourselves for such a huge change in our lives.
Others are not so obvious, and grief, being the utter bitch that it is, sneaks up and ruins you completely for the rest of the day. Walking past someone wearing his cologne. Scenes in movies. When we now watch Netflix's Over the Moon, a charming little movie about a young girl coming to terms with her mother's death and her new stepfamily, Tomas warns me to leave the room before this scene as it leaves me a complete mess every time-
Music is particularly difficult. Lyrics hit very differently now. If I thought my need to avoid Supermarket Flowers by Ed Sheeran after mum passed away was hard, it's really nothing in comparison to the effect music can have now. Recently I burst into tears in Tescos simply through hearing a song by Keane that was one of Martin's favourites. Certain playlists, adverts, radio stations- they all have to be skipped quickly for fear of a massive reaction, and even the act of having to skip them is sometimes enough to drag me down for the rest of the day.
There are a million things that set me off. Foods- I am heartbroken every time I make mashed potatoes as it was an unwritten rule that he was in charge of them, as his were simply perfect.
Facebook and Instagram's constant reminders of the past years are to be avoided- and as for the targeted advertising reminding me about valentines day well.... the less said the better.
The feelings that these triggers bring about are multiple. Sometimes there is happiness amongst the sadness, laughter with the tears at some suddenly remembered memory of that one time we went out and I had to drag his drunken ass off a table as he decided we should go dancing, or the time he decided to give me a polo lesson and promptly broke my favourite mallet as he tested it out as we stick and balled........
Sometimes it is just an overwhelming feeling of sadness that shuts me down and makes me numb to everything as I remember just how lonely my love for him has left me. My brain stops working, and all I can do is curl up and sleep and hope that the feeling will be gone when I awake... Tomas has become an expert at recognising these moments, and quickly calls on Morena and Coco to jump on top of me and hug me to drag me out of the heaviness that settles over me and can disrupt the entire day.
The hardest one is the pain, and with it the anger. It is overwhelming, and just destroys anything in it's path. It is the reason I take anti-anxiety medication daily, in an attempt to stave off what would lead to panic attacks that mean I cannot breathe and make me feel like my heart will stop. There is no warning to this, it can be triggered at any time and it is horrific, because there is no reasoning with this grief. You can't answer the questions it poses, reason with it to be able to continue with whatever you were doing before it hits. It takes over and ruins whatever it feels like because it just repeats the same thing over and over and over, until you are ready to go insane.
He should be here.
And this is where the grief is a bitch. Because it's right. Fuck all that toxic positivity of 'he's in a better place, at least he's not in pain...' How is anywhere a better place than with his children, his family?! and yes, he's not in pain, but he should never have had to go through this to begin with. He should be here, with us. He should be here, helping me pack boxes and complaining that I'm doing it too soon. He should be here to play computer games with Tomas and tell Morena how she is 'La nena mas linda!' every morning. He should be here, arguing with Ryan about the horses and planning his season before his babies are even back in the yard.
He should be here with me. He should be here arguing with me about everything that we could never agree on. He should be here, pressed against me as we try and fail to keep as quiet as possible having sex whilst the kids are asleep. He should be here, sat on the sofa in a world of his own as he plays on the Playstation, a look of contentment on his face as I watch him quietly, wondering how on earth did I manage to get so lucky to end up this happy.
But he's not here. he was stolen from me, something I can never forget and will never forgive. My perfect life was snatched away and the rage never ever leaves me, and if I let it I would sink like a stone and drown in my grief. It's not fair. It's not fair that he's gone. It's not fair that I feel like this. It's not fair that every day is now a constant battle, trying not to be triggered by anything and everything that surrounds me and reminds me of him.
I'd love to sink into this grief. I'd love to go back to those first days after he died and let it envelop me, drag me down where its warm and cosy, cocooned with memories of him and only him and never think of anything else ever again. I'd love to give in to all the feelings and just lash out at the world and make it hurt half as much as it has hurt me and my children.
But I can't.
I'm too fucking stubborn to give in. I won't let it win. I will keep going, keep paddling like crazy to keep afloat and hope that it seems effortless.
I will face all my triggers, all those moments that stop me dead in my tracks and make me catch my breath, and let them remind me that I had love that many never have, something that was real and messy and beautiful in it's own way, and that is to be treasured.
I will show my children that despite the pain there's beauty to be had in the world, and that we cannot close ourselves off from love when there is so much of it to be found around us- Love of our family, our friends, those that matter to us and open us up to experiences we thought we'd never have again.
The anger, the sadness, the pain..... it is felt by everyone, in all different ways. I won't become numb to others simply because of how I feel. I will remain open and kind, I will learn from my mistakes and I will do my best to help others smile and find themselves again as I am learning to do.
This is your warning grief. I'm a bigger bitch than you. You won't beat me.
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