Once bitten, twice shy — The side effects of losing a loved one and its impact on my relationships.
By: Keely Rae
Tags: Growth Mindset, Relationships, Self Improvement, Loss Of A Parent, Human Behavior

Once bitten, twice shy — The side effects of losing a loved one and its impact on my relationships.

Whether it has happened already, we all are at some point going to experience the death of someone close to us. As for me, I lost my mother, and two close childhood friends all before I was 23. Keely Rae Dec 23, 2020·4 min read

Photo by Zsolt Taskai

I am not alone in my experience, as many children grow up without parents in one way or another. The weird thing is you think with age you move on, but in reality, the loss’s aftereffects stay with you indefinitely.

Death has shown up — understatedly — untimely in my life. At the age of 11, I learned my mother’s illness would be terminal if she didn’t receive a transplant. She later died when I was 12, with her three daughters at her bedside. My father lost contact with us soon after. What I have carried with me through the years, and especially now that I am engaged and have a child, is the constant worry of feeling that loss again. My memory is very spotty, but what I can recall is that I had a significant bond with my mother; I was completely vulnerable with her. Once she passed, and a family member stepped in to “take over”, I began to build my emotional walls, that in many senses still stand tall today — 21 years later.

Back then and looking back now I feel abandonment. Obviously, my mother couldn’t predict or prevent this type of illness from cutting her life short at just 41, but as a child and even as an adult now, I still felt and feel abandoned. My view of the world at 12 changed dramatically. The affection, safety, and validation my mother provided me was completely ripped away and never replenished by another. The impact of this and other trauma I endured resulted in a lack of trust in others. I could only depend on and trust in myself. I didn’t even want to give others a chance for fear of feeling that same loss again.

Being vulnerable was not a part of my personality anymore.

It wasn’t that I couldn’t connect with others, rather the opposite. I always positioned myself in the role of the caretaker. When you’re a caretaker, it is easier to hide your own vulnerability. When I met my fiancé, I was very much at peace with single life. I was so hesitant to make anything serious of our relationship, exactly because I felt at home with him. Makes sense, right? After letting him in more, I began to see that ‘little girl’ vulnerabilty that I used to have coming through. Something I never thought I could express again. It was a whirlwind of all the happy feelings. Then he asked me to marry him. I was overwhelmed with joy. Later though, I started having other thoughts. What if he dies, just like the others? So many scenarios would play out in my mind. Brené Brown has an expression for this that is eerily descriptive of my mind: she calls it “dress-rehearsing tragedy”. It is a major handicap for me, and while I’m aware only I can do the work to change my frame of thinking, I seem to find reasons to resist change because while it’s painful, it’s comfortable. It keeps me in my “comfort zone” of being on guard waiting for the next traumatic thing to happen. It becomes pretty exhausting in the long run, though. Trauma has taught me to protect myself by not letting my guard down. That’s how I survived until now.

“Do what you can, with what you’ve got, where you are.” ~ Theodore Roosevelt

I am slowly learning, I need to thrive now. I need to trust now. I need to let love in now. I have been having this thought that if I don’t fully fall “in” emotionally with my spouse, then it would be somehow easier to deal with life if he were to die. It is morbid, yet, that’s my rationalization. This process of thinking obviously has been weighing on our relationship. Luckily he is the most patient person I know. Confronting this fear will set me free. It is a process of undoing behavior, and as an adult, that undoing takes a lot of time and grace for oneself. For now, as summed up perfectly by Theodore Roosevelt, I must do what I can, with what I’ve got, where I am.