Monday, March 19, 2012
People who have suffered the worst loss imaginable have to fight for their lives every day. I know that sounds melodramatic, and even loss parents reading this might think "exaggeration much?" but stop and think about having your heart torn out and being expected to survive that? And yet, we do. Survive. But when do we get to do more than simply survive? Every day is a struggle to get out of bed, shower, get dressed, hell even breathing just hurts some days. Now that the first year has passed, I am making a conscious effort to emerge from my hermit-like self-loathing pity party state and be an active participant in life. My son wouldn't want it any other way. He would want me to fully LIVE. So as I said before, I am striving for that balance of work, home, friends, hobbies, myself, and all the other things that grief "stole" my attention from. This is kind of a HUGE deal. Not everyone gets here. Some people stay STUCK forever in the black mire. Well, apparently not all of my friends truly realize the significance of my efforts or how much more difficult it is for someone who is grieiving to try and throw something like a dinner party. I spent allll day Saturday cooking, cleaning, decorating, and getting amped up to have people over. Two couples that we were expecting to come over didn't show up. One of them had promised to come and were a huge part of why we were throwing the party, because they said they never do anything. Less than three days before the party, one of them mentioned to my sister that they wouldn't be able to make it due to a prior commitment (mind you, we had spoken about the party for weeks beforehand where nothing was ever mentioned about prior plans). I find that excuse very difficult to buy, and I need to emphasize that this person never even bothered to tell me directly or apologize or anything along those lines. They didn't even ask if my sister could pass the message along. (?!) Another couple said they were coming and just never showed up. We heard nothing. A week or so ago, another friend of mine ignored several of my attempts to hang out after saying she wanted to. This was a friendship that had drifted, and I was trying to do some mending, which takes a great deal of emotional energy on top of grief. I tried suggesting different things to do and at different times, and she never confirmed anything, so I finally said "What is going on????" and still no response. So, I'm about done. With everyone. I keep putting myself out there, and it angers me that people must think I'm better, that I don't need friends, and it angers me that they don't know that in many many ways I am still fighting for my very life. Fighting to have some kind of life outside of the loss world, to do more than simply survive but to live. It angers me that my husband doesn't understand that concept, either. How will anybody else get it when he doesn't? I remember when he used to "get" me. I miss those days more than ever. Overall, I feel so disrespected, devalued, alone, misunderstood, unloved, and unimportant. If I didn't have my daughter here, I think I'd just be done with it all. The weather is getting nicer, and I have the day off, I should be out enjoying it, but I just want to crawl in a hole and disappear.
Friday, March 9, 2012
I just want to say that I miss this place, and I miss reading blogs regularly and commenting and all of the above. I am really struggling right now to achieve some sort of balance. I have stepped away for awhile, mostly because I feel I was here perhaps too often, and that's not good either. Life is not meant to be spent tied to a computer screen. The positives have been that I'm taking a workout class and am also learning to cook and enjoy other things. However, something is missing, and I know that I still need to come here; I need to write and to read and to connect. I just don't know how to get things balanced. Slowly I am "unsubscribing" from people on Facebook and will be doing a cleanup. I feel I have overdosed on social media to some extent, and I want to emerge from the shadows and focus more on "real life" and all that is tangible. Then, I realize, I don't even know what that means or what that is. Between my career, my marriage, my home, my family, my friends, it's just so difficult to balance it all. New hobbies and interests have taken shape in my life, but where do they fit in, and how do I incorporate all of this new stuff and still come here? It blows my mind when people say they are bored. How the hell are people ever bored? Life is so painfully short, and there's so much I want to do, become, achieve, and explore. So many people to connect with. So many people who can change and enhance my life. I can't disconnect from the loss community, either - not that I would ever want to. No way, no how. I am judged by people (and it is very obvious) for still reading the loss blogs when I do (which isn't often enough), for connecting with other loss moms on FB, and for wanting to acknowledge and honor my son. Maybe to some extent at certain points in my life, things were lopsided in that direction, sure. But now, I am realizing that, and the problem is that I don't know how to fix it so that it all has its proper place. I've found myself becoming much more social lately, which also has its pitfalls. Anyone in the loss community will tell you that figuring your social life out post-loss is a very confusing and difficult task. Just when I open my heart to be vulnerable again to friends, I end up getting screwed over again. I am at a point in my life where I am done with games and passive aggressive relationships. You're either my friend or you're not. I realize friendships are on a spectrum, and they shift and morph, but there's also a limit. And when I feel completely disrespected and devalued? Time to move on. I don't know how to achieve balance in my life yet, and I realize that's the goal so many of us have. I don't know how to reach "integration" as some call it. I don't know how to just be at work and focus on work, or be at home and focus on home. Everything gets blurred, the colors bleed, the lines shift. Just as I don't know who to trust anymore or how I will ever be okay again, really okay again, without my son here. Everything is lacking clarity, and I feel aimless, confused, hurt, abandoned, and scared. My grief has new layers to it that I never knew before, and I have horrible flashbacks and nightmares that can be triggered by many different things. I don't want to say I have PTSD, because I don't really know, but it really wouldn't surprise me. Work used to be my safe haven, my place to go and get away from my grief, and it was easy to compartmentalize to some extent. Why fifteen months out (today!) is it becoming more difficult to do that? Why do I find myself crying at work during my lunch hour? Why can't I focus and be efficient? Why do I still not know what choices are best for me, and why do I feel like depression is lurking around the corner threatening to snatch away any joy and motivation I feel?