Tag Archives: grief

Back to life

I’ve mentioned before that I’m feeling better now than I did even just a year ago.  And so much better than the years before that even.  But now… oh my.  The difference is so startling.  And that’s just the difference between when I felt that I was better and now when I am SO MUCH better.  And I look back, at the last 5 or so years, and I wonder “HOW did I make it, feeling that way??”

It’s plain to me now that I wasn’t really living.  I was existing.  Surviving.  Going through the motions and letting one day roll into the next until months and years had passed.  I was mostly okay with it because I didn’t comprehend the hole I was in.  It was just life and there are ups and downs, yes?

But now, the blindfold has come off and I can see again.  I don’t just feel better, I feel fantastic.  Before, if I thought of things such as friendships lost and loneliness, it would pull me down into an abyss of angst.  Then, earlier this year when I was starting to come out of it, I would be generally content.  However, when I would think of these same things, I would feel some twinges of that angst.  There was no abyss and I wouldn’t wallow but I would feel regret and sadness and … ugh.  Not fun stuff, that! But I was starting to see more perspective on things that happened, at my part in things that went wrong.  I’m thinking specifically of some friendships I had that if you’ve been reading me for a while, you might recall some mention of.  I no longer was feeling the crippling grief and self-pity that I had before.  Everything was getting better, I was starting to see (with horrible clarity) my hand in the dissolution of that friendship.  Why hadn’t I seen so clearly before?  I felt embarrassed.

But now?  Now that the lights are fully on and I am back to life?  I don’t feel the angst.  Yes, maybe a momentary wistfulness for friendships lost but I am so completely past it now that I can pull out those thoughts and memories, turn them over and examine them, and feel so abyss pulling at me, no grief or guilt or regret.  It’s done and so totally ancient history.  I was not a happy person when that all went down.  I didn’t even completely see it at the time, I don’t think anyone saw it.  So what is the point in dwelling on it?  No point at all.  And honestly, I don’t even think of it much at all anymore.  Where once I was consumed, then I was occasionally pulled in… now I glance and shrug and move on.

Oh… this is so much better.

Looking back, I can see so clearly that I had some major issues with self-loathing and self-worth.  I was disgusted by myself.  So how could anyone else accept me if I was so repellant?  I wallowed in the social anxiety, letting is suck me in and not let me back out again.  I was alone and truly felt that I deserved to be alone.  I felt sorry for myself without ever accepting that I was worth anything more.  It was horrible.  But the worst part is that I didn’t see it and I didn’t try to find a way out sooner.

I’m not entirely sure how I found my way out now, in fact.  Was it getting my thyroid under control?  Was it Liam starting Kindergarten?  Going back to MOPS?  Everything altogether?  I wish I knew the formula, in case I ever find myself in the abyss again.  But the way I’m feeling now, I don’t see any abyss in sight.  I feel better mentally AND physically.  I have energy and enthusiasm and I’m ready to go.

Watch out, World!

When the bottom falls out

It’s almost amazing to me, that after almost six years, I can still vividly imagine those moments back in March of 2004 when my world turned on it’s ear and the new “me” was born. You would think, wrongly perhaps, that such things would dull and fade with time.  That new experiences, new joys, new heartaches and memories aplenty would blunt the sharp agony that is losing a child.

You would be wrong, of course.

Maybe it’s different, because I wasn’t blogging back then.  I was just keeping a handwritten journal.  But there is no community attached to a handwritten journal.  And somehow, not having the acknowledgment, makes it almost feel like it happened even longer ago than it did.  Maybe because it feels like I have been blogging for forever and a day.  And I am sometimes left to wonder if the people who know me now, who didn’t know me then, know just what it was like.  If they can appreciate how that moment changed me.  If they understand that I feel, every single day, just what I lost.

I was reading, just today, about another blogger who just had the bottom fall out from underneath her.  She said:

If I started panicking, it was more of a numb kind, not like the adrenaline that pumps through your body as you narrowly avoid a car accident.  It was just, well, like watching yourself in a dream.

And, oh my stars, reading that brought it all back.  Because that is EXACTLY what it feels like.  Over the years, you become used to the sensation of panic being one of a heart racing (and mine was, but it was almost as though I couldn’t feel that), a hysterical giggle rising in your throat, a call to action.  And shocking loss like this, well, it causes you to react so very differently.  Because instead of speeding up, everything slows down.  You become aware of yourself in a third-person sort of way, as if you were floating over your body, looking down from the ceiling.  You hear your own voice and don’t recognize it.  Your mind, not wanting to comprehend what is happening, starts to drift backwards.  It’s surreal.  It’s agony.

Unlike Eve, I had a feeling as soon as they had a hard time finding the heartbeat.  While I didn’t technically have a grasp on just what it was I truly feared, I had that fear.  I had that fear all the way to the hospital, actually, as the niggling voice asked ever so quietly, “When did you last feel him move?”  Even so, fear and suspicion doesn’t cover the shock.  And the numbness.  And the agony that settles into your bones.

That agony never really leaves you.  Even six years later, I can still recall it and feel it and burn with it at a moment’s notice.

Because once the bottom falls out, it never really rights itself again.  You just define a “new normal”.  And you move forward the best you.

Eight years in the blink of an eye

It has been eight years since two planes flew into to the towers of the World Trade Center in New York City and the world as we knew it changed forever.  That morning is burned in my memory, the feelings and sights and horror are still so fresh that it feels almost like just yesterday that I stood in my living room (a different living room, in fact), staring at the television, not wanting to believe my eyes.

Our lives have changed drastically since September 11, 2001.  The way we think has changed.  Travel has changed.  Politics have changed.  People have changed.  Not all of this change has been for the better.  And not all of this change regrettable.  Some of this change just simply had to happen.

I hate that that day had to happen.  I hate a lot of what has happened to this beautiful country as a result.

I wonder how all the family who lost loved ones that day are doing now.   Does it feel like just yesterday to them too?  I bet it does.

It’s hard to know what to say here.  What IS there to say here?  I remember.  I will never forget.

Grieving and Blogging

I’ve made no secret that I started this blog four years ago during one of the saddest periods I’ve experienced in my life so far.  2004 became something of a dark tunnel to me and I was having a hard time finding a way out.  Blogging became that way out and I’m forever grateful for that.

I went through the grief riggamarole again in August of 2005 when I miscarried.  And it stung, to be sure.  In some ways, the sting was a lot more bitter than that of losing Jackson.  But I also had something that I didn’t have in March of 2004.  I had my blog.  (And a whole lot of alcohol, but let’s just stick with the blog, mmkay?)  And I had a lot of lovely comments from lovely people expressing their sadness over my loss.  And I had an outlet that I could pour my hurt and frustration and despair into.  I’d be hestitant to say that having the blog made that whole experience “better”, but on the other hand, I would hate to have experienced it without the blog.  I think it softened the blow, somewhat.

There are a lot of blogs that I have found through the “Loss Grapevine”.  Bad news travels fast and hearing about someone’s heart-wrenching grief often draws crowds.  And it’s very easy to find these blogs and let yourself get swept up in the unbearable sadness of their story.  This is particularly dangerous if you happen to be pregnant at the time (obviously, only if the loss in question is related to pregnancy), because it’s all too easy to superimpose your circumstances onto that of the blogger.  And the next thing you know, your husband is having to peel you off the floor with a spatula.

I don’t know what point I’m trying to make here.  Maybe there isn’t any point.  Other than the act of blogging and the community surrounding it is incredibly helpful when going through loss.  And coming up on my four-year blogging anniversary, I’m more glad than ever that I started this and that I stuck with it.  As unhappy as I may get sometimes, I know I would be infinitely more unhappy without this outlet.

You Need to Read – September 28

Better a day late than a dollar short, right? (Though, come to think of it, I’m a dollar short too.  Damnit.)  I had to post this week’s list because there really were some good posts on it and I felt guilty for not giving them their due.  And I know I shouldn’t feel guilty anyhow and that’s what I was trying to avoid by taking the break and all, but… what can ya do?  I’m going to try to tackle this list a little differently than I normally would too.  So bear with me.  And thanks for your patience too.  You guys are faboo.

First off, I have Let Flickr Take You On A Picnik! from Blissfully Domestic by Kayla Meow.  Have you heard about Picnik yet?  I played with it a little this weekend and I think it’s love.  Best of all?  Most of it’s features are FREE, you just need to sign up.  This picture below is a good testament of what can be done with Picnik:


Convinced yet?  Go read that post if you aren’t and you will be!

Also on this week’s list is Trauma from loraleeslooneytunes.com by Loralee.  This isn’t an easy post to read.  Chances are, you’re going to need a box of tissues to get through it.  I know I did.  Her pain is so palpable in this post that you want desperately to be able to reach through the computer screen and hug her, bake her a lasagna, SOMETHING.  I know enough of her pain to know how soul-shattering it is, but in the end, I have no idea the trauma she has experienced.  She’s in my heart.

Next is an issue that is near and dear to my heart. Boys Will Be Boys? from Dutch Blitz by Angella.  I take (and always have taken) large exception to the notion that all boys are rough, wild and obnoxious.  If anything, I think what makes boys that way is their parents expecting that’s how they’ll be.  And I hate it when people excuse rude/poor behavior by saying “boys will be boys”.  That’s no reason not to have manners.  Whether you’re a boy or a girl, you should be able to say you’re sorry.

This next post is just as awesome and is about a very important issue. Guest Poster: Bugfrog from Greeblemonkey by Aimee’s husband Bryan.  He talks about how and why some people say they don’t or won’t vote and how exactly that line of thinking is flawed.  We should ALL vote if we even remotely care about this country.  Republican or Democrat.  We need to make our voices heard.

I always love to see a new post from Y up.  File this one under “afraid to hit publish.” from Joy Unexpected by Yvonne was yet another post from here where she lays it on the line.  And this time, she lays it on the line about her thyroid, her weight and how it’s affecting her.  And she basically says she refuses to let it affect her any longer.  She wants to get healthy, darnit, and I want to get healthy right along with her.  I just love her honesty.  I wish we could all be as honest in our writing.

This next post is actually something I’m worried about.  In the Voting Booth, No One Knows You’re a Dog from MOMocrats by Cynematic discusses the possibility of people getting to the voting booth and, though intending to vote for Obama, will not be able to for one reason or another.  Mostly?   Because he’s black.  I am scared to death of this happening, people.  That we would turn away from the best hope our country has right now simply because of the color of his skin.  Prove me wrong, people!

And while I’m feeling all aggravated, here’s something that’s been making my brain bleed: High Fructose Corn Syrup Is Your Friend! from MamaPop. Have you seen these ads?  They drive me CRAZY.  I’m sorry, Corn Refiners of America (or whoever you are), but your campaign is stupid, insulting and DANGEROUS.  I guess that’s my way of saying that I’m not convinced and I will still be looking for ways to cut HFCS from our diet.  Because, seriously, I don’t need this stuff in EVERYTHING I eat.  Do you?

And that, my friends, is the list.  If you’ve seen my previous post today, we’ve had some strange happenings here at Casa de Porter.  This morning, we heard a loud BANG followed by the sound of ice crackling in a glass of water.  And lo and behold, our sliding glass door in the kitchen SHATTERED.  Just like that.  Why?  Your guess is as good as mine.  Some of the glass has already started falling out of it and I’m at a loss as to what to do.  FIGURES.  Sometimes, I really, really  hate this house.