It's 2:30 in the morning, two hours after I took an Am.bien and I am watching some movie on TV that I surely can get from net.flix and watch at a decent hours. It is "Love, Actually" and I find myself oddly invested in it.
But I am sitting here, listening to C breathe and try to sleep, despite the TV and my light on and rustling around.
I've been feeling better lately, but not better. I don't know how to describe it, how to articulate this place of limbo or whatever it is.
My heart is full. When I write that, the pressure makes my eyes leak. So I guess it is not full of joy. Anticipation? Hope? No, that's not it. Fear? Maybe. Frustration? Likely.
This movie is about figuring out love and loss, I guess. that first flush of love, those unsure steps that could bring elation or humiliation. It's sweet. I'm waiting for it to fall into something cliche so I can snap it off and be annoyed with the pithy superficiality of movies, but it hasn't gotten there yet.
Me/NotMe. I am myself, beginning to heal, and yet not myself. Full of fear, afraid of hope, craving that rapture of simply enjoying a moment. And I fear that will never be again for me.
I was a child in my own head, my own world, until snapped into reality by bedtimes or homework or dead pets or 7th grade betrayals. I didn't need a prince charming anymore -- my prince met my needs, desires. He touched my heart.
I wonder how to go back to the girl who got distracted by the idea of pie for breakfast, or craved cold Chinese food for lunch. The one who would just get in the car and drive two hours to see a special place, of rolling hills and the echos of the BSO in the off season.
I'm too old. Too sad. I don't trust anyone.. I don't trust me to follow through to do what's right. I don't trust me to stick around when the going gets tough. And even though there are those who have kind, there are limits, to what you understand, what you can give me. And I don't trust that we can understand.
fucking life. fucking complicated. love. family. siblings, marriage. Children. Death. lost children. Lost hope.
Forever now? Forever? Now?
Who am I in this world. How can I find the notme that's close enough to the oldme that i can recognize her. That I can have faith in her.
But how do I get through the place where I am, so I can go to the place I used to be while incorporating the very new me who has survived all this shit;
*likely to come down in a moment of lucidity. Never fear. No permanent harm done. None we can tell yet.
9 comments:
It just sucks so bad. Not only did we lose our children, but we lost our innocence, our zest for life, our former selves. There are too many things to mourn here. Hope today is better.
I don't think you should take it down - it's important to see what you're feeling when it's not complicated by lucidity. ;)
Everything you said makes perfect sense to me. Obviously you're "not you" anymore, because the old you could never have contemplated what you've been through. But I think you'll grow used to the "not you", maybe even like her. And I think it's a good sign that your heart is full, even if it's full of frustration. Isn't that better than it being empty?
I call these days world weariness days. When I feel so old, so used up and so lost I don't know what to do with myself. Every part of them sucks. But I think they are a part of healing. I'm not sure we can truly come to terms with our grief unless we appreciate how bad it is.
I know. totally comforting, huh?
I think the harder we try to figure out how to get to a place that resembles the old, mixed with the new, the further away it seems. Then, some days you just realize, in spite of all the seeking, you are there. Of course, the next day the rollercoaster could dip again...
Wow, I am just a ray of sunshine eh? Thinking of you hun.
G
Hope the coming down was not too difficult.
Love, love, LOVE Love Actually...
*sighs*
I can only imagine.
Keep it if you can. It's the truth.
Don't feel too bad, I posted a post in the months after I lost Caleb when I was up at 2 a.m. and ever so creatively titled it 2a.m., part of a bottle of McCallan helped the words flow...it is what it is right??? I left it up b/c after everything that has happened I just didn't care about censoring me anymore. Does that make sense???
You sound perfectly lucid to me, fwiw:)
You know, I am still not much for hope. Not really. One day at a time. I look far enough to make practical preparations (read: childcare) for if we need it, but I can't picture it at all. I can't even talk to our nanny myself. I had a friend she works for now do it for me. And it's not just in this area. I can't look ahead on anything in life. My sister's wedding is in two weeks. My parents will be here in 8 days. I know these things, and yet I don't connect to them in any real way. I am not in the thick of the painful grief anymore, the way you still are, but I wanted to let you know that while I still laugh and can be in the moment, the hope thing is still very elusive, and, I find, not exactly essential. It seems that for me just plowing through, living through what comes is ok. I know what I want to get to, and it seems I can get away with working for it without hoping for it. Does it make sense? It's enough, at least for now. I am not unhappy. Guarded, on edge. But I can also enjoy things, and laugh, and cry, and function.
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