Death, Trauma Responses, and Patterns

Death is a part of life. We all experience loss at various stages in our lives and each loss impacts us differently. Recently, my grandfather passed away and it was a unique grieving process for me. See, he and I weren’t close yet when I was notified of his passing, I was struck by this deep sadness that I did not understand. We hadn’t had a conversation in five years, not since I saw him at my great-grandmother's funeral. I can’t really say when we last had contact either. In my normal blog process, this is the point my amazing coach (not sarcasm) would remind me to ensure there is a way to relate this blog to you, the reader, and give you a reason or nugget to continue reading.

In all frankness, when I started writing I had no clue how to relate this to the reader or what specific nugget would come through. In retrospect though, I know that me sharing these personal realizations that I have had while processing his death relates to many of us that have experienced grief.

To understand why Jim, my grandfather, and I weren’t close, it helps to know a little of the backstory. Cliffnotes-ish version incoming. I was not raised by my biological mother. I was raised by my great-aunt, Jim’s sister, and I refer to her as mom. They had their own complicated dynamic where they had periods of no contact and periods of being exceptionally close. Jim was not the most affectionate man, but he was not cold either. He had a gruffness to him that could be hard to read, a shyness almost but he loved to teach and share things with people. As a child, I did not understand his distance and mom explained a few things to me. First, Jim wasn’t the biggest fan of small children (as an adult, I get it) but she felt as I got older, teen-adult, he would open up more. The second was having shared interests with him. Jim had a limited education, world exposure, and was a bit of an introvert. The shared interest was where he was most comfortable and confident.

As a child, teen, and occasionally as an adult, I would follow him everywhere when we would visit. Make myself as accommodating as possible. Do anything I could for positive acknowledgement and in the occasions that I received it, I was like a starved woman at a buffet. Basking in those rare moments. I had a love hate relationship whenever he would take me to do something or teach me anything. I was excited that I had his willingness in that moment but so fucking scared shitless that I would fuck something up. That I would be so bad that he wouldn’t want to do it with me again, that I would disappoint him, or be criticized. I prayed that when I joined the Navy and worked on aircraft, it would open that channel to connect. And it did, to an extent but it was never an open flow. Things were still spotty and sporadic. I tried almost everything. Boats, planes, guns, fishing, building stuff, random ingenuity, bartending, the list goes on. His only hobby that I didn’t explore was drawing/painting. I think the only time I fully felt strong acknowledgement and emotion from him was when I had a flag flown for him on a B-52 during my last deployment in 2017. Even as an adult, I would get excited on the rare occasions where not only did I receive a card BUT he actually signed it himself instead of his wife signing for him.

So here I am, as a 40-year-old adult, tears streaming down my face feeling so many fucking feels about this loss.

The first was the disappointing but not surprising fact that my mom decided to give me this news over Facebook messenger. We will explore that one another day.

The second was deep crushing grief that I didn’t understand. Now to the crux, the meat and taters as to why we have this blog.

Why am I grieving a man who I barely had a connection with? A person that I hadn’t talked to in years. Who did not return my calls, didn’t acknowledge my cards, barely said a word when I caught my first mahi. Didn’t check on me when I rolled my Jeep and broke my neck amongst other bones. Not a word when I was accepted into grad school. Didn’t check to see if I was ok after the Maui fires. Didn’t say a word when I became an international best-selling author.

These questions kept circling my brain with so much underlying inner child hurt, rage, and grief. Adult logic brain struggled to understand. It was while I was talking to a close friend that things started to click.

I was not fully grieving the man but I was grieving the loss of an idea. A hope. Yes, I had sadness that Jim had passed. I have love for him as a person and a couple random fond memories. Deep down though, it was next to nothing. His passing had created a vacuum. A void. You see, that angry inner child, the one that so desperately wanted a relationship with her grandfather, now lost all hope of that ever happening. That idea that maybe someday, just maybe he and I would connect was gone. In most cases, when you lose someone, you have the memories to look back on. The things that warm your heart that help you smile through the tears. All I had was emptiness.

Once I recognized that, damn did my hurt inner child rage. In that rage, a couple other lightbulbs came on that I am still working through. My desire for a relationship with Jim was one of the sources of my pattern of jumping through my ass in hopes for connection, acknowledgement, approval, worthiness, enoughness, being wanted, and love. My mom, inadvertently, had helped this programming and ironically, I had this same pattern with her. When she told me that he would be more receptive to a relationship when I was older, I clung to that possibility. When she said shared interests, I went above and beyond, trying to create that opportunity. Each time that door didn’t open, I was crushed. I wondered what I did wrong. What was wrong with me? How can I do better? How can I be better? How can I finally be enough that he would want that relationship?

This thought process, mindset, pattern had manifested in almost every way in my life. Even as an adult in my friendships, professional life, and romantic dynamics. Hell, full authenticity, I am not sure if I can think of an area of my life where it has not impacted. It is a fucking conditioned trauma response folks. I am very self-aware of my ish (my therapist pointed that out long ago) but this was a layer that I was completely clueless about. I am still working through these feels. I would be lying and blowing smoke up your ass if I told you that I wasn’t. That I had found peace and released the hurt, rage, or grief.

This would also be a great time to dive into identifying trauma responses and ways to navigate them when they come up but I’m not. I am fucking tapped like a cheap keg at a frat party. I will leave you with this though.

Your feelings don’t always have to make sense and that doesn’t make them any less powerful.

Trauma comes in all shapes and sizes, even if we don’t consciously acknowledge it as trauma.

Recognizing our patterns comes in layers. It is hard as fuck, it leaves you raw, but damn is it liberating.

If this struck a chord and you want to take a deep dive into releasing your patterns, your unseen trauma schedule a FREE Freedom Formula call through my calendar link below, send a message through the website, or DM me on instagram TheMelissaLeeParent.

My 1:1 program “Unbound” helps you break free of the mindset and stories you tell yourself that prevent you from living a life of joy. You will learn techniques to help you navigate life’s stressors, how to be present and intentional with both yourself and the relationships with those around you. I will guide you through deep healing and transformation with soul work to complete between our sessions to help maximize results.

We work together to help you break through the suffocating cycles and patterns that hold you back from the life you envision.

And remember friends,

You Matter!