I should not have complained about being bored. The last few days have been uncomfortably packed with the stuff of life - sleep deprivation, a flooded basement, a busted dryer, a husband eaten by his job, a chemical pregnancy.
I've been taking it all unusually badly. Not returning phone calls, or leaving blog comments, because I don't feel capable of civil conversation. Not completing work assignments. Silently stamping my feet and feeling underappreciated. Having fleeting pitiful thoughts of, "Why me?" and "I guess God hates me." Wishing someone else would come along and clean my bathroom. Wah, wah, wah.
On my way to therapy this morning I figured out why I am so cranky (I could have turned around and saved myself the $15 co-pay). Life is happening. It is just happening along, and I am expected to participate in it. WTF?
This is year two, and I feel like I am leaving my baby behind. I hate it so much.
I know it's not really true. She is no more gone today than she was 3 weeks ago or 3 months ago. And when I am 48, 58, 68 she will be just as gone as she is now. But I am feeling it differently. The cushion of shock takes a long time to wear off I think, and I may just be coming to the last part now. Somehow today, this week, the penny is really dropping: I have to live every day of the rest of my life - come wind and water, come girl scout meetings and conference calls, come poverty or ecstacy - without my daughter.
I fucking hate it.
Nothing else really insightful to share here. Just, I fucking hate it.
My therapist says this next year will be about finding out who I am now, and finding ways to integrate her into my space, my daily living, my big goals. That sounds nice. I know I'll embrace that project at some point. But seriously - it's no substitute for parenting my kid.
Thursday, March 18
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10 comments:
Hugs.
The forever nature of Matilda being gone scares me so I try not to think about it and just go back to that day at a time, keep breathing, thing.
It sucks and I wish it was different for you.
Maddie x
I just said on Catherine's blog the other day, I never fully understood just how long forever really was. Its a fucking long time. A fucking long time to be hurting.
I am hurting with you, Jenni.
So sorry things are so tough right now.
No more platitudes though, I know there is nothing anyone can really say when things are like this, only that I'm thinking of you.
xo
'It is just happening along, and I am expected to participate in it. WTF?'
Yup. WTF? Strange how it all just keeps happening and everyone else keeps expecting us to join in.
xo
I have lived two years, three months, and a day without him. And still, sometimes the true meaning of forever hits me. I can say forever and know that it is a long time, but some days it just opens up before me and it is too much.
Thinking of you and your Angel.
Very well said. My participation in the world that just keeps on turning is becoming easier but is still half-hearted. Does that carefree zest for a new day ever return?
I'm on a similar therapy journey... it's important and it's more useful than remaining immobilized by sorrow, but I was wanting to learn the lessons that parenting provides.
oxox
Forever is such a long damned time. I find myself unable to plan anything or contemplate the future because it means moving on without my son. I'm holding you and Angel Mae in my thoughts. Take care.
I hate it too. So much.
Thinking of you.
xxx
wtf? oh yes.
I wish for you, you weren't here. Nor that I or any of us knew what you're talking about.
But I'm still selfishly glad I have found you.
love and a big hug
Sorry it's taken me so long to read this, hon. I'm sorry that year 2 is being... well, how year 2 is.
Here to hear about this year, and next as they unfold. x x
You are right - your therapist's advice is a lousy substitue for parenting, but true. I remember just breaking down and telling my therapist that I didn't know how i could live the rest of my life without my daughters...how? And he said (bless his heart)the point is not to get over it, but to live in spite of it. This is a long arduos journey with no end point. With my first loss EVERYTHING was new and overwhelming, with my 2nd loss I had (unfortunately) a lot of insight. I knew it would be hard as hell but I knew I would come through it.
As you are seeing life will and does go on. Right now you are kicking and screaming the whole fucking way and but eventually you will give in and follow and further still down the road you will even become a willing participant.
In my worst moments I took comfort in knowing that Emi and Daniella were mine...I got to be their mother and their nurturer and although life in all her bitchiness took them away...life could not take that single fact away.
Hugs to you.
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