Black Gaping Hole

I feel right now like I am in an upswing, moving a bit farther from the gaping hole, though I know it is right behind me, waiting. Recent distractions, newly (re)found, if tenuous, focus on my goals, on my husband, friends.

I fear the moment I feel the swing start to move downward, back toward the gaping hole, wondering about what new misery awaits me, which old misery will hurt most. How long it will take to climb back out of the gaping black hole, what I will need to do it, to let go again of my boys.

I left this comment on a post at Glow in the Woods, in response to a post by Niobe about feeling the wound of loss sort of, well, scar over. Be less raw.

When I wrote this post, I was feeling really good. Hopeful about the future. C had just completed 5 years of intense work and had successfully defended his dissertation. I was starting to get back into my own research and study. There was a minuscule chance that we could have conceived this cycle, and I was feeling okay, even hopeful about it. There was talk of getting a dog. There has been crazy weather here lately, with a big jump in temperature, severe thunder storms and threats of tornadoes. Electricity was literally in the air.

Weeping, hard crying was held to a minimum this last week or so. I was glad to be done with May. I was feeling okay. Almost no crying in therapy, even. I decided that it was time to be done with the Am.bien, that I had been taking it for a while, and I was doing well enough otherwise to try to face sleep without it. So, you know, feeling pretty okay.

But I was getting bitchy. Feeling the anger. A lot. It was coming out in subtle, and not so subtle ways. I thought maybe I was withdrawing from the am.bien, but I also feared it was another downswing.

I don't know if anyone else has experienced this, but for a long time, after a good day or two (hell, after a good hour or two) I would crash. Feel the black, deep sadness more intensely. It's like it would build when I wasn't looking. And so, while enjoying some of the "gee, I seem to be doing well" or "I wonder if I've gotten past the worst of this." there was a little voice in my head that said "brace yourself." I hadn't had the crash. I'd recovered from all the dates in May, I'd been feeling pretty okay, and without the crash.

Until yesterday.

BOOM.

Without going into specifics, C and I had been talking about doing some things, making some (small) changes in our life, and I was pretty excited (no, this was not about trying again). I took it for a done deal. But for C, it was not. Without knowing that, I was thinking about things, making plans. Looking Forward. Planning. Hoping.

Hmm. Looking forward, planning, hoping. Remind you of anything??

Yeah, well, after several more discussions yesterday, it became clear that those changes, those decisions were definitely not part of a done deal. I was crushed and furious. Furious. After more talking I decided I needed to get out of the house, get some comfort food, or something.

I slammed the door on my way out. I haven't slammed a door since I was 17 years old. I drove 40 mph down our little development street. I took a detour so I could speed around a few curves of empty road, then spent far more money than I should have at C.VS on I don't even know what.

I came back home, slammed the door a few more times and ended up upstairs alone with junk food I didn't even want. Crying. Hard. I felt like I wanted to explode. I don't ever remember feeling so much tension. Like I needed to break every dish in the house. Punch a hole through the wall. I went into my office and threw a couple of things on the floor, but that didn't do it. I saw the Takin.g Ch.arge of You.r Fert.ility book I had bought way back when I thought I had any control over my fertility and I tore it up. Literally ripped pages and binding and covers. A book on grieving that was helpful when my mom died. Ripped it apart. Em.pty Cradle, B.roken Hear.t. Shreds.

Satisfying but not enough. Sobbing in my bed. Sobbing. Weeping. Wailing like I hadn't done since the boys died. I took a couple of steps down the stairs and C came to me, and just held me while I cried like I have never cried in my life. Ever. My chest hurt. I started to hyperventilate.

I cried for my boys. The life they'd never have. The life we'd never have because they were gone. I cried for the things we should have been doing, contending with infant sons. The exhaustion and the joy. I cried for everything we got cheated out of. Everything I wanted and was denied.

I cried with deepest sorrow and deepest anger I have ever felt in my entire life.

*****

I've stopped crying now, more or less. I'm still processing everything that came with the events of yesterday. I'm exhausted. My body still hurts. But I'll be okay. A few days, or a week. I'll be okay. Somehow.

And, I hope, the gaping hole has become a little smaller.