Anatomy of bad news

I hear the news and there is extreme fatigue. I despertately need to escape into sleep.
Shame. Shame that I ever thought I had experienced bad news before. I listen to a fellow mom discuss behavioral problems of her toddler and wonder how she can possibly think this is a real problem. I think of this post and cringe. I wonder how I will ever again be empathetic towards the daily problems of others; this has raised the bar permanently. Relativism. It has come to chew my ass off, big time.

It takes a long time to process this news. I digest it in small, bite-sized pieces as I do what must be done: change the baby, clothe the toddler, make baby purree, argue over how much halloween may be consumed per day. The ragged edge of the news is slowly worn smooth by the normalcy of the never-ending, daily needs of our household. With the normalcy returns the ablility to take a deep breath, to run up a hill without my throat constricting, to actually hear what others are saying but then, with the normalcy comes panic. Panic and guilt. Life should NOT be normal because with normalcy comes acceptance and we cannot accept. We must fight. Fight? Can this be fought? We don't know.

The news marches in incrementally; a piece of concrete information provided, some tenuous research done. My brain frantically seeks the silver lining. I find a few "but, at leasts". I wonder how real these fragments of silver lining are. Can this be fought? Of course it can. How do we fight? By being supportive without stripping independence. By showing love. By seeking out all the information available. By being a team. By sharing optimism. By creating safe space to allow whatever needs to be said to be said. By being creative. By being very present.