Yesterday, C and I ran some errands, including the renewal of my driver's license. I was kind of looking forward to it since my (now) previous picture was not flattering at all -- I was growing out a pixie cut and just having a bad day dealing with the dmv. Now, I am an average-looking person, and not terribly photogenic on a good day, so yes, I was vain enough to want to get rid of that picture.
When we got to the satellite dmv station yesterday, there was almost no wait, the process was easy and the person behind the counter actually pleasant. Filled out the forms, paid my fee and sat down in front of the blue curtain to have my picture taken.
The nice lady said to smile at the count of three and heaven help me, I tried. I made some kind of face, she snapped the picture and that was it. (Usually they let you see the picture before they finalize it, but this woman just took the picture and sent it off.) Did it come out okay? I asked. She said, "Uhh, yeah..."
She hands me my driver's license and it's quite possibly the worst picture ever taken of me. Ever. Not only is it a terrible angle, terrible face I'm making, it was kind of overexposed, so it's a very light image. Like a ghost. It makes my throat clutch to think about it.
It was horrifying. I can't even look at it. I turned it around in my wallet so I won't see the picture.
Yes, yes, I know my driver's license picture has nothing to do with who I am, but god, could it have represented how I've been feeling more accurately? Ugly, invisible, pale, sad. It's not really me. I am not really me, either. I'm barely here. A shadow, a ghost of my former self.
It's so poetic I could puke.
Today is July fourth. Independence Day here in the good old U.S. of A.
It is also 6 full months since I lost all physical connection to my sons. I was awake last night at the times it was noted that they were delivered. Part of me feels like I should feel "freer" now, like I've passed this milestone so I should be feeling better somehow. I don't know. That doesn't even make any sense.
I cannot thank you all enough for talking me down this last week or so. It was so frightening to be back in that place, and really feel like I was the only one "weeping in the corner." I can't tell you. Really. I am so grateful to you, and feel such relief to not be completely alone, as I sometimes feel. To not be completely losing my mind, as I sometimes feel.
I knew six months was supposed to be hard, but Jesus. I had hoped maybe I had had my setback at 4 months, and that maybe I was getting better. And maybe I would escape the six-month hole. (Remember the one from The Sil.ence of the L.ambs? With the bloody fingernails and screaming?)
So. I'm feeling a little more human now, but even the grief and sadness feel different now. I feel so much older. And yet, as I said above, barely there. Not quite me. I get little glimpses of me, here and there. And then I can feel it fading away again. Me, rather, fading in, fading out.