Last night I screamed...loud...at Steve...and in front of Sam.
I'm not dealing well...with anything.
The tiniest effort seems enormous. A simple mistake is an indication that the love is gone. There is nothing that holds my attention. Even this blog bores me...feels like a chore. Surrounded by all the stories...happy...sad...it's all too much.
I know I've made my situation worse by hiding Travis from the majority of the world. So I have to put up with people asking, "How are you?" They don't know he even existed, so I can't explain how I feel about losing him. Most people don't know why I feel the way I feel. Now I understand that phrase, "It's a blessing and a curse." I'm not getting the sympathy and I don't have to deal with the stupid comments/advice. But I'm feeling very alone.
Steve said, "You know, this happened to both of us." And I responded with, "No, THIS happened to me. You lost another child, yes, but all of THIS happened TO ME."
Nice. Real nice. I'm feeling just a bit too sorry for myself. I have somewhere lost myself in all of THIS. What happened to ME? I enjoyed things...I made plans...I did things...I was a real person. Now, I just feel sorry for myself. OH THE TRAGEDY! Good grief. I have become all those things I despise in other people. Weak, sad, needy. I need to get a grip.
I was sitting there last night watching Thomas the Tank Engine and realizing that I have lost my ability to live in this moment. I've been spending far too much time thinking about what happened before...or what is to come. I've fooled myself into believing I was balancing it all...what a joke.
It's time to acknowledge the moment...this moment. The past cannot be changed. The future is always going to be uncertain. This moment holds so much that is good. Sure, this moment isn't perfect. But it's pretty damn good on the grand scale of things. As long as I stop screaming.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Mom
My mom insisted on living independently. She wanted to live in the two-story house she and my dad built in the 70s, despite the fact that da...
-
"Unfortunately, honey, the baby is no longer alive.". -Ultrasound doctor
-
When I was 18 years old, I wasn't paying attention while driving and I crashed my parents' van into a cruck (car with a truck bed) t...
-
Hi Everyone, this is Cathy's husband Stephen. I am proud to announce that Myles Fisher entered the world this afternoon at 3:51 PM He ...
9 comments:
We think of you all the time and send you some more love. May you find some peace and freedom soon.
What a powerful post.
Ah, yes, "living in the moment." Very hard to do at times.
I will take a slightly different tack and just point out that I think that if you only just now finally had a moment where you snapped and lost it and yelled, then it should not go without notice or mention that up until now you have NOT snapped and lost control - and you have been doing a better job of trying to protect the ones you love from your own pain than you think you have. The snapping was inevitable - not a matter of if, but only when. and, you have already passed that one particular moment and are looking back on it as something that happened, not a state or place that you are still completely immersed or stuck in. yes, it could raise its ugly head again, but it is so evident that you keep making progress in navigating your way through... sometimes it must seem that your brilliant intelligence is both a blessing and a curse, because you can analyze and reason and seek logical answers even where there are none, and try to make your way and make some sense of things along this path, but at the same time you can't help but end up analyzing and questioning yourself and your own actions and reactions as your own logical and analytical mind can turn on you because you can not turn off that inherent characteristic of yourself. You are an amazing person. And sometimes, even the most amazing people might just need to scream a little bit.
De-lurking to say you are not alone, even though that's probably exactly how you feel. I said pretty much the same thing to my husband after my son died. It was horrible to say (and hear) and I do realize that he was hurting just as I was. That said, what he didn't have to deal with on a day to day basis was the constant blame we put on ourselves. Yes his child died and that's horrible in itself but he didn't have to carry and deliver a dead baby. So in that aspect, it didn't happen to him. You're not a bad person because your babies died Catherine and you're not a bad person because you yelled at your husband. Your ability to get out of bed every day and face the world in itself shows how strong and committed you are. I couldn't even do that for months. Hug your husband, tell him your sorry for hurting his feelings and cry with him - he'll understand and I'm sure he already marvels in your strength just as much as we all do.
Just be sure when you stop screaming at others - you stop screaming at yourself as well. There will come a time when you'll breath again without effort.
If you want to talk, I'm an email away.
huh. veddy interesting. justin and i had a similar conversation about a separate topic recently, and the truth is, whether he gets it or not, that although we shared an experience, our experiences were different.
i suspect that this truth pertains to your disagreement with steve. of course he lost his sons, of course he grieves them, of course it's obscenely horrible for him - but it is a different experience for him, not having carried them. not his fault he can't carry them, but still, it's different.
Living in the moment sounds like a great idea, but it's hard for "normal" people at the best of times, never mind after back to back losses. Being intelligent enough to analyze one's life on a regular basis is another of those blessing/curse things. On some level I guess it might be easier if you were a bubble-heade born-again who could put her faith in Jesus and just bake a pie or something whenever the blues threatened to take over. You have a tremendous amount to offer and you have touched so many people who have come in here to read your moving posts. I'm sorry things are sucky right now and I'm glad you took the opportunity to vent. Better that than to seethe in silence. We're listening...
I don't know, i don't have any advice. I know my dh & i grieve very differently for Nicolas -- he would say he never grieved at all. But that is not really what you are talking about...
I don't think it is possible to 'deal well' with what has happened to you. Or rather, i think that you *are* doing remarkably well, considering. How could the cracks not show? They are there, they have to be there, they *have* to be so deep...
Thinking of all of you...
Catherine, you need time. Keep working it out and working through it. You deserve to scream. Sam will forget it. You are not hurting him. Steve knows your grief is immeasurable.
It did happen to you. Motherhood is very different from fatherhood, and I can only imagine that the losses early on are very different for mothers and fathers. You knew Travis and Alex in a way Steve couldn't.
And you're hurt and grieving. Emote. Be loud. Just don't push him away because he loves you and I know he's hurting for you.
((hugs))
For goodness sake, you're allowed to feel sorry for yourself. Something awful happened to you, really awful, so awful no one else can really ever understand how awful.
Something awful also happened to your husband, to your mother, but it's a different experience for them. I'm sorry you're feeling so distant from your husband but it's just part of the process you're gong through, please try not to get angry at yourself about this.
Post a Comment