Tuesday, February 20, 2007

I can't write

I'm not sleeping well because I'm having nightmares. I have no idea what has set them off, but they are horrible, awful, nightmares that wake me up and won't let me fall back asleep. I am, therefore, a royal bitch to live with right now. Of course, my husband has been too afraid of me to ask what's wrong (and I can't say as I blame him...I could very well peel the skin off his face with my fire-breath if he looks at me the wrong way). There must be something brewing in the morass of crap in my brain...I just can't seem to access it during my waking hours at the moment.

Anyway...even if I COULD find my words, I don't think I could write anything as eloquent as this entry at Mommy Needs Coffee.

3 comments:

Schmetterling said...

Kate, I just admitted to my husband that, if I hadn't turned my life over to God, I might very well not be here to tell about my very, very long time in despair. My despair was different than yours, but in God's eyes, despair is despair. Reality may have prevented me from doing something drastic to myself, but God literally saved my life. I pray every single day, sometimes two or three times a day, that He does the same for you. You know I love you.

Brenda said...

Im not sure what kind of nightmares your having but when I first lost Zak I use to dream I was still pg. It would take me a few minutes when I woke to realise I wasn't.

Now I dream about dead babies.
I dream I have a baby at 24 weeks and that I have to take loads of photos because she will be dead in a hour or so.

Its funny what our minds do to us.
And it hurts that with everything thats happened our minds feel the need to kick us as well.

Hugs
xxx

Misty said...

Kate, I've bookmarked her site. That is so what I am going through right now. I'm looking around and realizing that I have nothing left from the last 32 years besides my children. They now define me in every sense of the word. My counselor asked me what I thought about when I would start going back to work, and it literally made me go into a stark, silent sobbing panic attack. There is nothing to go back to. Nothing I want to do. No one I know to talk to anymore. Nothing I want to talk about. People I meet through the kids make overatures, but I bury them deeply. What would I talk to them about? My life revolves around my children. So, what do I do for a living? Where is their father? Where do I live? How do I pay my bills? Everything leads to back to my collapse. To my either glibly saying my ex is in prison for trying to kill us, I used to be an attorney but right now am on more anti-psychotic medications than anyone on Who Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest and I'm living with my mommy and daddy and I DON"T WANT TO CHANGE IT. Or do I give them the six hour version where I try to make them understand that I THOUGHT I was making good decisions at the time? Try to save some semblance of esteem in their eyes when I know I will walk away as the "damaged" one. And for what? FOR WHAT?? I'm very comfortable in my hole. Under my water. I am so horrified by what the old me did, I never want to see or speak to her again. But how do I come up from under the water without her being there, too?? She'll always be there, always.

So I'm having the nightmares still, too. These recent ones have been wonderful. No more running and trying to save the babies from him. Now I'm trying to save them from me. And I'm trying to tell everyone that I'm killing them. And everyone's too busy trying to escape me to hear me. And I'm on the floor with Q's blood on my hands trying to explain that I thought I had to do this to save him and sobbing and begging for someone to help them from me. No, I'm not Andrea Yates. I'm me. And I know that having a doped up hermit for a mom who's terrified to go to Wal Mart or answer the phone probably isn't the best childhood in the world.
So now I don't even talk to my old friends. What is there to say. Yes, I'm still fucked up, but not as bad as before. But there's nothing else to me. Nothing. I don't want to talk aobut the law career I lost and don't want to find again. I don't want to tlak about your marriage, or your plans for more children, or anything. I don't want to make small talk, because those very, very small things are my existance right now, and that's be too personal. I HATE how he has defined my entire life now. And how he will ALWAYS be a large part of how I'm "that" girl.
So I found God through this. For me, it was because the idea that what I was going through was because of meaningless chaos was too much for me to handle. Ironically enough, the idea that there WAS some great, master plan that I was small insignificant clog on gave me hope. I didn't have to have a reason to survive because I didn't matter! THE Plan matters. Selfish, huh. That's ok. I'm finding most of the Saints were pretty damned selfish, too. So now I'm thinking I'll continue the hermit life and just shoot for beatification.
I talk to a woman at RCIA a lot after class. Her daughter was born with a smooth brain. She wasn't supposed to live for more than two years, but survived for thirteen. She spent every second of those thirteen years going at the universe with every fiber in every atom of her being trying to save her daughter. But she still died. Painfully. And now she's found out her son that's in Chance's class has severe allergies to everything known to civilization. Literally, they are doing studies to see if he can remain in "public" school. And she asks me why sometimes in moments of weakness, and then apologizes for not being more thankful of what she has.
Kate, I think of you so often. I've just said more here than I even knew I was capable of thinking, much less than the sum total of what I've said to EVERYONE I've spoken to in the last month. Delete this if you want. I can't blog. I just cna't get it to come out. But her post, and yours. I cling to you whether you know it or not. And I am constantly searching for ways to make you feel better. Always looking for a book, or a picture, or a poem. Like if I could maybe find a word or a cross or something, you'd find peace. I think they call it transference? LOL
RAMLING STOPS