I’m not sure exactly where to start with this post. This is something that I’ve carried with me for a little over a year and I’ve only recently decided that it’s worth sharing on my blog. After all, this blog is supposed to give you an insight into who I am and that includes my interests, ambitions, strengths, weaknesses, challenges, and even my setbacks. Well, I guess a good place to start would be the very beginning.

Where it All Began

The year was 2020 which, as you know, was an extremely trying year for just about everyone. But for some people, it was loaded with some additional obstacles. In my case, that was my final semester of my Senior year of college. Once you become a Senior, you’re required to do a practicum (kind of like an internship) for your field of study. In my case, that field was social work. So, after many days and weeks and months of searching during my summer break, I finally managed to find an organization where I could fulfill my practicum requirement.

Although it took some getting used to, my practicum started off as an overall positive experience. I learned a lot of valuable information, I met some very kind and hard-working people, and I even reorganized the layout of the food bank. Little did I know something in the next few months would send me hurtling toward rock bottom.

It was a cold Sunday evening in November 2020. I was in the family room preparing for school the next day when my mom came in and informed me that she was going up to Church to light a candle for her friend’s son. That’s when I remembered an unopened prayer request email I had received from the organization where I was doing my practicum. I opened the email to find a message that read something along the lines of: “Prayer request for Iliana Delphine Connelly (name changed) who died before birth.”

As I read on, I realized that the message was referring to the baby daughter of one of the female employees I was closest to. She had served as sort of a mentor figure to me and showed me a substantial amount of patience when I was just starting out.

How do I even begin to describe how hard this news hit me? I could say it was like I had been shot through the heart or like I had fallen into a pit or like my whole world faded to black, but even those would be understatements. Needless to say, I was a total wreck. I could hardly sleep that night and I didn’t even want to write in my journal. Since most of my ideas were about pregnancy or childbirth, I thought it would be disrespectful in light of the circumstances even though they would be safely tucked away in my journal.

Naturally, I didn’t feel like going to my class the next day, but I knew I had to. Although I managed to convince myself to attend class, I had a lot of trouble paying attention. The grief and agony followed me around everywhere like a shadow monster, constantly taunting me with that horrible memory. Thankfully, my teacher understood. When I told her about this during our meeting, she offered me her condolences and told me she understood why I seemed so off during class. She even offered to help me arrange an appointment with the on-campus therapist, but I declined only because I had already decided on a different therapist.

An Emotional Rollercoaster

Ever since that day I’ve had my emotional ups and downs. When I started seeing my therapist, she walked me through a technique called Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR.) After seeing her for about a year, I felt much more at-ease and in control of my emotions. Then things got bad again when she went of sabbatical. I tried to see it as an opportunity to implement what we had learned and to take my mental health into my own hands. But then I had two encounters that really knocked me for a loop.

The first was when I was browsing Tumblr for some Hadestown fan art. I found some artwork depicting scenes and characters from a Hadestown fan fiction I found on Archive of Our Own. I won’t reveal the name of the work or the author in order to spare them from any possible harassment. However, I will mention that several chapters involved Hades and Persephone losing a baby. My second encounter was when I looked up the ending to the game Hades where Zagreus, the protagonist, learns that he was a stillborn and Persephone, his biological mother, became so overcome with grief that she couldn’t take life in the underworld and left as a result. Not helping is that the player apparently has to beat the game multiple times thus forcing Persephone to re-live her trauma by witnessing her son die again and again.

See, I usually turn to musicals and Greek myths for comfort during difficult or stressful times. While they obviously aren’t immune to darker themes, I hadn’t encountered any themes that had reminded me of such a personal tragedy. That’s when a million different questions started running through my head, such as: If Hades and Persephone are immortal, wouldn’t their children be immortal by extension? Several of the myths have shown that gods are good at surviving extreme circumstances even before birth. So, how is it even possible for a goddess to lose a baby? How could the fates possibly have any control over the other gods? If it’s possible for a goddess to lose a baby, why hasn’t this happened to any of the other goddesses? If this universe establishes that there is a life after death, why do they act like the baby is gone, gone? Why is this such a common plotline for Hades and Persephone, when there are a myriad of other conflicts and plotlines that could be used?

It didn’t help that I was already going through a lot in my personal life. I was undergoing a considerable amount of stress at my job and I didn’t exactly see eye-to-eye with one of the teachers I was assisting. In addition to this, my parents were trying to get my brother into treatment for substance abuse problems. I didn’t even have the support of my therapist because I eventually found out she wouldn’t be returning to her practice due to some vague health problems.

I would have days or even weeks with little to no anxiety, but then those bad feeling would creep up on me again after some time. It was a continuous pattern that I desperately wanted to escape.

Growth and Healing

At first, I tried to blame the artists who made and posted the upsetting content. That’s not to say I contacted them directly or made any posts bashing them or their work. However, I would vent to my mom and my sister about how little care and consideration they showed by choosing to implement such themes in such a fantastical setting.

When I realized that wasn’t making me feel better, I started blaming myself. I wondered why I couldn’t just feel sad for a little while and then move on like normal people. I didn’t think I had a right to be this upset since this situation didn’t happen to me directly and the woman it did affect wasn’t even part of my biological family. I felt so silly for getting so upset over such lovely fan art that didn’t directly reference or depict anything related to my trauma.

Since it was all in my head, I decided to take matters into my own hands by searching for ways to cope with my anxiety online. Most of the suggestions I found only worked briefly, if at all. I started to feel broken and helpless. Every day I would hope by some miracle that I would be able to rise above it permanently or that I would wake up and my anxiety would be gone forever, or at least stop pestering me unnecessarily.

Eventually, things started to look up for me. After a few less than satisfactory sessions with one therapist, I decided to start over with a different one. When I opened up to her about what I was going through, she revealed to me that I was being triggered. Finally I had a name for that tight sensation in my throat and that sick feeling in my stomach. I realized it was okay to say that I was dealing with trauma.

Now that I had put a name to my feelings, the next step was to figure out how to control them. The first solution came to me when I went back to a fan fiction I hadn’t worked on for over a month. At first, I had trouble focusing and I couldn’t find the right words. But after giving it a few more minutes, the words came to me and my fingers started flying around the keyboard. That’s when I decided not to worry about what everyone else was doing and to just focus on writing what I wanted to see. That meant no more browsing social media, especially Tumblr, for Hadestown fan art or fan fictions except the ones I had seen before and knew could be trusted.

The second solution came from an old book I found lying around my parents’ house. When I opened it, I found a page that said when you feel scared “Put your imagination to work calming you down. Close your eyes and visualize a bright, cheery place. In your mind, rerun a ‘film’ of something pleasant that happened recently or create one about something fun coming up in your life.” Of course, sometimes my negative thoughts interrupt my positive ones. When that happens, I repeat these these words to myself: “I am safe. I am strong. I am loved.” After taking a few deep breaths, I put on another movie.

I also found a lot of solace in my Catholic Faith. Every Friday morning I would go up to Church and join my mother during her hour of adoration. This gave me time to meditate and reflect on my feelings. I could talk to my God about whatever was on my mind and even if I couldn’t see or hear Him, I knew He was listening. This made me realize that perhaps my anxiety isn’t entirely about what happened to my mentor. More often than not, I’m actually overwhelmed with the hustle and bustle of everyday life. Sometimes I need to just slow down and reflect on what truly matters to me: Jesus Christ, my Lord and Savior.

Finally, I decided to face my past head-on. I searched the website of the place where I completed my practicum. There I found an article stating that my old mentor figure had successfully delivered two, healthy twin girls on November 24th, 2021. After a little over a year of trying to avoid having anything to do with the organization to try and dodge the painful memories, I decided enough was enough. I made and sent a card to her, expressing my most sincere congratulations. Even though I haven’t seen or spoken to her, I knew I had done the right thing by trying to get in touch with her and sending her a message that would make her day.

Conclusion

The death of my mentor’s baby is definitely not something I would like to go through again. Still, this experience has taught me a lot. I realized that trying to blame anyone, even myself, was counterproductive because no one is at fault. Sometimes things just happen that we aren’t prepared for and everyone responds to a crisis differently. I have also learned that my thoughts aren’t always going to be rational because anxiety is often irrational like other feelings and feelings come and go. Besides, my fear stemmed from empathy and sorrow for someone I cared about. That means I have a big heart and I’m not afraid wear it on my sleeve. So instead of trying to bully myself out of anxiety, I just need to live with it. Finally, I learned to be good to myself, not just when I feel anxious but all the time. I can do so by avoiding situations that trigger me when I can and rewiring my thoughts when I can’t avoid my triggers.

If all of this is a bit too wordy or overwhelming, just remember this quote from a beloved Disney film: “The past can hurt. But the way I see it, you can either run from it or learn from it.”