Why does it have to hurt so much?
I was going to entitle this tongue-tied. I've been sitting here with the window open to my blog, but playing solitaire. I am so full. It's like there's no room for me in here.
Everything hurts. A few good moments, then BAM. I make a decision, then BAM.
Just overwhelmed. It just washes over me. Clouds my judgment. Makes me afraid. Of everything. I am immobile.
Nightmares. Not even about the boys, or the delivery. Dreams of fear, dreams of being assaulted. Violated. Hurt.
*****
I finally figured out a way to withdraw with the least amount of disruption to my students and to my coordinator and her assistant. I am told that they will see if they can do it. (Note the contrast from January when they told me they would be available to support me however they could once they took my co-teacher away.)
Told they need to know by about mid-May what my plans will be for the fall. My plans for the fall -- that's poetic. I'm already falling. Getting lower all the time.
A year ago I was the golden child. Now it is awkward. A year ago I got an award recognizing my potential. Now they're telling me to take time off.
Last night, one of my classmates (one who has been very sweet and kind through all this, sent me a card, always appropriate) actually crossed the room to tell me she was glad I made it to class, that they missed me last week. I realized that she is one of 4 or 5 people who has asked me how I'm doing, really asked me, as a friend. Not because they are trying to anticipate funding for the fall, or what they will have to cover because I am out of commission. People who perhaps don't fully understand, but are actually sensitive.
I know, I am lucky in this way. 4 or 5 people who are not afraid to talk to me, who do not dismiss me, who understand when I joke "well, of course, there would be no sign on the wall welcoming a baby that didn't survive." Who would disagree with that? Why on earth would we remind people that 2 babies died?
One classmate whose sister gave birth to twins in September -- at 24w3d -- took the time today to show me pictures of his niece and nephew. Doing fine now. Weighing in at 15 pounds or so.
And yes, that goddamned sign welcoming the new baby girls is still on the office window. The one from February. (Did I ever mention that the child that would have resulted from my chemical pregnancy in June was due February 14? Yeah.)
I guess I was naive in thinking that the academy would be any more supportive than my former places of employment. Consulting firms. Dot coms. Sensitive, smart, educated people in the academy, right?
Business is business. University is business. Period.
I'm so angry and sad and tired and frustrated. And so, so sad.
In class last night, we were talking about something I really can't recall. Except for the bit about Derrida, talking about how we make sense of things when our plans don't go as we expect (chaos and godlessness vs. a religious or faith-related approach). I had a good chuckle about that one. I could teach a coure on the post-structuralist/post-modernist approach to dealing with the curveballs life throws. It was all I could do not to just take the bottle of At*van out of my purse and say, This is how I make sense of the unexpected.
*****
Everyday it seems there is something that sets me back, that upsets me more than it should. A rude student. A careless comment. That goddammed sign on the wall. And I am angry. Paralyzed.
It just hurts so much. Why does it have to hurt so much?
**Updated**
I just reread this. It's embarrassing. I can't even seem to put 3 sentences together without... contradicting myself. Without writing gobbledygook. Typos. I really hope this is just me being distracted and grief-stricken. And not the Am.bien and ati.van that really, I usually only take at night for sleep.
Maybe it's antibiotics? I realize that a lot of the anxiety/sadness/anger is related to my upcoming appointment on Saturday. I'm seeing my RE for an HSG. It's been 2 years since I had one, and theoretically, I'm interested in trying to salvage what's left of my fertility. It's the first step in thinking about future reproduction. I'm sure that it's contributing to this. I guess that's a whole other post. If I don't completely lose my mind in the meantime.
7 comments:
I think it's a somewhat common experience to have anger appear or amplify a lot around the time reproductive efforts start or are about to start post loss. I am sorry you are in this very tough place, and I am sorry the department is acting like a bunch of dicks (- 4 or 5). So not cool.
for some reason your blog eats my comments!
I wrote before to say I'm so sorry for the place you're in. it completely rots to have to deal with work crap politics on top of your own stuff. I really hope you can take a break and do something just for YOU. ~luna
Yes. Out of the blue. Having a good few moments, few hours - then BAM.
All I can say is that I hope the moments and hours of "good" last a little longer with each day. And that the "BAMs" are a little less devastating.
But the sensitive, well-educated, enlightened minds around you floor me. There's no excuse for their attitudes. None. They'll "see what they can do"????? That's just poor. I'm sorry you have, yet again, insult added to injury.
Oh my dear. Derrida is not good for grief.
Sending you all my good wishes. I hope the four or five turn into ten or twenty.
You're right. It is just business. At the end of the day (oh gawd, I hate that term) they need to keep things moving forward, regardless of our grief.
Don't worry about contradicting yourself. It seems to be a common occurence for me in the midst of this grief. It's the rollercoaster, its not only up and down, but it spins around too (hi, yah, I would like to get off the ride now...)
I don't have much good or helpful to say. I guess it might be worth noting that everything about your delivery and the horrible loss of the twins was horribly painful and very much like an assault.
It seems reasonable that you would have to cope with the physical trauma you experienced, in additon to the grief.
I want a bottle of ativan.
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