For the year I have censored myself here. I'm even censoring myself now, cause goodness knows that the wrong person with some sort of vendetta will twist my words and take steps to hurt us.
We decided to move forward with a lawsuit, since our "justice" system had failed to bring about any justice for Bram. We won, but in many ways we lost. We did win, we did have proof showing that Bram did nothing wrong, that you can do everything right and distracted can and will kill. We had an expert who proved it. The insurance said "oh yeah, he didn't cause his death!" (not in those words but you get it) But after everyone stuck their hands in the tiny pot we got a couple bucks. And for what? A consolation prize instead of Bram. Give me Bram. That's all I wanted. Rationally I know that wasn't an option, but my mama heart hoped inspite of sanity. So many promises of "you'll never have to want for anything again" ha! One of those lies right up there with "time heals all wounds."
We also learned from our "therapist" that we can't trust therapists. Because when they find out you win, they'll charge you 3x what their contract states, unless you agree to more visits. Why would I pay to see someone when they've robbed me and violated my trust? Forget that. Thanks for the lesson quack, thanks for teaching those who need help the most that they don't actually deserve it, that they are just walking dollar signs to you. But I knew that in the sessions where you put words in my mouth and never listened to me. I knew that when you said I did the stretches and breathing exercises wrong and forced my head and pushed so hard that you bruised my neck. I knew that when you said I wanted revenge and I tried to explain that I just wanted my son's life to matter, nothing to do with revenge! I knew when you made every session about HER, about the person who took my son from this world. Why wouldn't you let me talk about my perfect boy?
The PTSD, the ongoing stress, it's messed with my body in so many ways. We're not built to always be on edge, we're not built to always be terrified of the next thing. Yes, we're made to handle it, but we're made to get breaks, we're made to feel that way in rational situations. Like when you're in life or death situations, not going grocery shopping. Not sorting laundry. Not playing with your child. Family pictures should not be a life or death situation! And yet in all these situations my brain has made my body so sick with fear, I lose it.
So I'm struggling, but that's what the rest of this life will be won't it? The struggles change from day to day, and some stay the same. I'm not struggling so much to breathe, but still struggling so often to just be. I'm overwhelmed with life and feel like I have no time to have our buttercup. I'm struggling with an adorable little boy, who watched his brother die and is 2 years and 7 months old now. He does Bram things, and it scares me. Every day scares me, the chance to lose again in all the ways that matter (my precious children) persists, bubbling away under the surface of every second. I don't think I could survive if another piece of my heart died, because losing Bram nearly killed me.