Kristina Haddad: Surviving complex grief
Hey folks. In this episode, I chat with a dear friend of mine, Kristina Haddad, who lost the love of her life to suicide just over 2 years ago. Though we don’t talk about details, the topic is still triggering for some so I’d like to offer that content notification. She shares the following resources that have been integral to her survival process:Alliance of HopeRefuge in GriefNo Time to Say Goodbye: Surviving the Suicide of a Loved One by Carla FinePlease also check out Brett’s Bass Fund. Nominations for bass lessons open this Sunday, October 1st!In addition to being an actor, acting coach, and climate activist, Kristina is also a beautiful writer and this has been one of the most important tools helping her live from moment to moment in this unparalleled grief. She’s been gracious enough to allow me to share her most recent writing here, about her trip to Portugal.“I cried in the airport, on the plane, watching the kaleidoscope of colors in the sky, watching couples entwined in the narrow alley ways, watching the water lap on the shore, hearing the hum of Hallelujah playing by a street performer on a cobblestone bridge. The Fado music. How ironic. My brain uttering silently: ‘what happened?’ I could imagine exactly what he would be doing, saying, observing, eating, drinking, thinking. The quirkiness, the characters, the richness of the landscape. The bird on the horse. Perched. The dragonflies. Everywhere. Survivor guilt. It’s real. And at the same time, I cried seeing my friend enveloped in abundant love — a beautiful sight. Soothing moments, elusive, etched their way in. The co-existence. I guess I will flatly state. I have yet to feel joy. But I do feel love. I have yet to feel lightness, but I do feel love. I have yet to feel release. But I do feel love. And the deepest unbending sadness and longing. And a profound sense of awareness of every moment. In the middle of night, staring out the window at the streetlights reflecting off the water, faint drunken laughter in the distance. I’m present. And yet. It’s like half of me is gone. But the half that still exists is fighting for love. And yet still — I wonder 24/7 how is this possible, is this real? Did this really happen? Where are you? I guess that’s the best way to describe it. Shock. Still. 49 months out. I melted down at Terminal 5, gate 37 at London Heathrow. I couldn’t control it. I was saddled with bags. And souvenirs and stuff and there I was — and I saw people stare as tears streamed. I bit my lip and looked away. The pain is impenetrable. How is it possible to be here without you? And yet here I am.”xxAlex This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit cptsddiaries.substack.com
