Tuesday, June 13, 2006

Haunted places

I have hated haunted houses ever since I visited one with my girl scout troop when I was about twelve years old. Deliberatly walking down dark corridors so that someone could jump out at you and say BOO...bumping into walls and other nonmovable objects...feeling trapped and terrified. Since then, I have consciously chosen to avoid any and all situations where I would feel that small and frightened.

But that is how this feels.

I'm trapped.

I realize now that I only got a taste of it when Alex died. I was trapped, but there was hope. It hurt like hell, but there was a direction to go...a path to take toward healing and "trying again." I could throw open the windows on the fun house and let in SOME light.

But now that Travis is gone, it's like I'm standing in a dark corridor, with walls all around me, and spooky goblins lurking about...just waiting to jump out and terrorize me. The windows are nailed shut and I can't even bring in the light anymore. There is nowhere to turn toward healing.

It feels like I'm slowly suffocating. Staring at a wall in the darkness. I KNOW there is an exit somewhere. There has to be. I can't be locked in here forever. Can I?

4 comments:

R said...

No, you can't.

kate said...

No, you won't be. I know there is a path out...i wish i could help you find it.

Also, i wanted to say -- at MISS there is a mini-movement that calls the 'sub-baby' a 'rainbow baby' instead. The idea being that yes, a living baby brings joy and some measure of healing. Yet, there are other rainbows as well -- there are other paths to healing.

Hedda said...

I have no idea how it feels to lose two children. The death of one that I had for 11 days was enough to nearly kill me. I know that grief comes in waves so that we are able to get through it.

You are at a real disadvantage because you are sitting most of the day with your foot propped up. The only thing I know to do is use that grief for good.

When I lost my little one I did research and looked for ways to help others. I still do that. Find a craft that will occupy your mind while you sit and let your foot heal.

We are all here for you. Let us know what we can do.

Sarah said...

:) I'm glad I could make you laugh a little. Finding humor in some of my own antics lets me know that I'm not in a horrible state.

I feel like while you're looking for your exit maybe all you can do is exist too. And sometimes I guess we can't fight it. Just remember to look up once in awhile to see if the way out has popped up in front of you.

Hugs... hope that ankle is getting better!