If I were a dog, I'd be doing circles trying to get comfortable, trying to settle, then getting up and circling again.
After my orthopedic appointment today, I went down to a nearby mall to get some stuff for my cats at the vitamin place. Went to Pe.tsm.art for cat food. And spent probably half an hour in Bord.ers. I wanted to get some cds, maybe an easy book to read, since I'm on spring break. I should be correcting papers, doing work, catching up on leftovers from when I was sick from last semester, but let's be realistic, shall we?
I picked three cds, two of which I wore out on cassette in my twenties and a "retrospective" from a band I started listening to in college and still favored 10 years ago. These album strike chords for me that, what? They satisfy my auditory cravings for harmony, for lyrics that...I don't know, make sense in some way. The sounds resonate. Reassure. Guess I'm trying to go back in time. Finding something I know is soothing. Actually, no, it's not that they were particularly soothing, I think it's more that I listened to them when I was finding myself, figuring myself out. Or trying to. These are artists I listened to before I figured out who I was, what I wanted, and how I wanted to live.
Maybe that's what I'm doing now. Trying to figure out who the hell I am now. I keep saying it, here and in my head, I can't believe this is my life now. I know I won't have this heart ripping pain every day. But. I'm materially changed. I was saying to C last night that it feels like my life, the path I was on, has veered off in some direction I never anticipated it would go.
Maybe it will head back in the general direction I had intended: family, friends, career. They all have these big "IFs" attached (no pun intended). If we can have more children -- and if they live. If I can find a way to relate to those I love again. If I can find the excitement I used to get out of my field of research. If I can do my part (if we can both) maintain the amazing relationship my husband and I have built since we met almost 10 years ago.
Everyone says, don't worry, it will suck for a long time, but it will come back. But I won't. The old me is gone. I've read these words written by so many strong women who have struggled to get through similar circumstance. But I don't feel strong. I was just getting my feet under me when the world came crashing down. I don't know if they're ever going to work again. I don't know if I'll ever find me again. It took me so long to get the old me figured out. How will I figure out the new me? What will she be like? I don't even think I want to be her.
4 comments:
That was very well put. I think similar thoughts. Who am I going to be going forward? I am not sure I like this new me, but it's like I have no choice but to be this person. I don't know when it gets bettter, but I pray every day to my daughter asking her to help me, because I can't believe this is my life either. It still just feels like a bad dream. I am sorry you feel the same way, because I know how heavy your heart must be. It's like it's weighing me down and just getting up is exercise.
I was saying to C last night that it feels like my life, the path I was on, has veered off in some direction I never anticipated it would go.
That is precisely how I feel. Like I've been forced off the road in a direction I never wanted to go. In a direction I never dreamed existed. I like your analogy to the dog getting comfortable. That is exactly it, isn't it?
Love this post. And, you may not see it, you may not even like me saying it, but, you are absolutely strong. You really are, STE. Not that it helps any.
well said. the truth is this changes you forever. you are not the same person, and you never will be. you will be stronger, among other things, on the other side. and you will hopefully be able to feel joy again, and experience the other things that grief darkens and dampens. but you will not be the same person that you were before your losses.
people talk about the "new normal" and the "before" and "after" and I think there's some truth to that.
but I have asked myself the same thing -- how did I get here? I can't believe this is my life. it never goes away, but but it does get easier with time. ~luna
You know, after my miscarriage in '02, I went on this complete '80s music kick, googled all my old HS friends -- I figured it was just classic regression. I just wanted to be in a place again psychologically where my biggest worry was my calculus exam and finding a quiet place to make out for 20 minutes. After Maddy died, there was really no place to regress too; HS just seemed to close.
None of us are strong, we're just everyday people who got socked with a crowbar from hell. Yet we all seem to find the strength to get up in the morning. And blog. And that? Is a lot. You won't be the same. None of us will. But you won't be entirely different, either. It's an enormously long journey, and there's no way but through. I'm sorry you're on it.
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