Thursday, September 18, 2008

So

I'm sitting here with a big purring cat with a big furry belly and two fliers for an "Annual Walk to Remember" from the hospital where I delivered the boys. The cat is laying on the fliers, which I encourage, rubbing her big furry belly as she rolls over some more to let me scritch under her chin. Her eyes are closed and I'd swear there's a smile on her face. She has a low purr that's hard to hear over the birds outside, and the kids in the elementary school playground behind my house. I can feel it though, the purr.

The fact that I got two fliers instead of one is curious to me. Was it a clerical error? Or were they trying to acknowledge each of my boys? I don't know why this is so important to me.

*****

Thank you all for your sweet and supportive comments on my last few posts. I am definitely in a downswing, and it doesn't feel good. I have actually been talking to my shrink (an LICSW) about changing up my meds and last week I made a few calls about finding a pharma.cologist/pscyhiatrist, perhaps one who deals with trauma. I called one name my shrink gave me, but she didn't have an opening for over a month (from when I called) and the others were not taking new patients.

After two sessions of practically begging me to get a pharm re-eval, and agreeing with me that waiting a month was not going to work, my shrink (who was on her way out of town) said she'd find some more names for me. She agreed with my sister (who also said she thought I was sounding pretty bad) that going to see my GP for an eval was not really a good idea, because I needed someone who specialized in this kind of thing (at least in psych meds). I realized how bad I must have been when my shrink called me about a half an hour after my appointment with a referral. That was Tuesday.

I didn't call the referred shrink, partly because I didn't fully understand his last name as my shrink left it on the message, partly because I'm all fucked up. Also, apparently his office is in the same neighborhood as the hospital in which I delivered the boys. And because I'm all fucked up.

I'm feeling a little better, but not in a stable way. More like I feel okay for a few hours, then I walk around feeling all weird and shaky. It's familiar, and I don't like it. I've also realized how, well, distorted my views of reality have been when, discussing my class with a colleague, that colleague remarked that it seemed to be a productive class. I couldn't really tell that it was terribly productive, and was thinking that it was not that great. I had a couple of good meetings with students, where I was able to teach them a little something, and connect with them on a human level. That was good, too. Had a good class (one that I take) and a good chat with a colleague. And a nice dinner date with C.

So it was good for a few hours, but then I felt all weird and shaky and unsettled. It's the only way I can describe it. C came home from his own shrink appointment with a few names of pharmas, one of which was the one my own shrink had given me over the phone. I take that as an indicator that he's a good one (since my shrink is 40 miles away, and his shrink is here in town).

So, I'm a little more functional. A little less weepy. But feeling just as fucked up as ever.

*****

I tried writing a post on Sunday, and got about 10 lines in when the power went out. For two days. Apparently the effects of Hurricane Ike were felt farther north than was anticipated. Where I live now, the threat is usually tornadoes; I grew up in the northeast, where hurricanes blew in a few times each fall. Wind, rain, disappearing beaches. Power outages.

I knew it was windy, but initially I didn't think much of the outage. I went out to school at about four to try to do some work, use the computers and internet. There were trees down everywhere, no lights, everything was closed. It looked like a hurricane, only without the rain. Classes wound up being canceled on Monday and most businesses were closed that day. Many were closed on Tuesday. There are still 10s of thousands of people without power. Thankfully ours came back on Tuesday.

*****

The post I started was titled Left Behind. In it, I wanted to talk about how I'm feeling out of step in so many ways with so many people, both in real life and in the computer. In DBL. And with where I'd like to be. Emotionally, mentally, academically, reproductively. I hate the consequences of being oversensitive, physically, emotionally, mentally.

I know, I know, I am where I am, and there's not much I can do to change that, except try to take care of myself. I know. And yet. There's another loss. Goddammit. I'm tired of being so fucked up. Always the basket case, always the oversensitive one. Yes, I'm bringing in drama from my childhood, and I don't care. I'm tired of being the one who can't seem to deal. I don't know how to change that. Any of it, the being tired and the not dealing. Goddammit.

Maybe one of these days I'll finish that post. Or maybe I'll just let it go.

18 comments:

Bonny said...

(Delurking) Thinking of you.

k@lakly said...

I'm not one for signs, much but I think two referrals to the same doc is sure sign that a phone call is in order. It's good that you have so many who are wtching over you and who want to help you find a path out of this hell.
I'm thinking of you and sending healing vibes (whatever those are):)
xxoo

Aunt Becky said...

I think that calling this doctor is going to be a great thing for you.

Lots of love to you, STE.

(and we had Ike problems here too. Not the power, but the storms were insane).

Anonymous said...

My heart is heavy knowing what a difficult time you are having. I wish there was something that I could do from afar to ease your pain, even just a tiny bit, to make the darkness fade just a little. I am holding a light for you, always, and sending out strength across the miles.

CLC said...

I hope you make the phone call soon.

And just so you don't feel so out of the ordinary f-ed up, I think we have all felt left behind at some point or another, post the deaths of our babies. At least I know I did a few months ago when it seemed everyone was moving forward in some way. Now I know I am one of those people but I guess my point is that we can't measure our grief against each other's. We all heal and grieve differently, and move forward at different paces. I know you know this already, but I guess I am just trying to tell you that I've felt that too and it sucks. I am sorry you are having such a rough time.I wish I could give you a hug IRL and just sit and listen (and I am sure I would vent too.)

Tash said...

I often feel left behind. For a variety of reasons. Comes with the territory I think; one you're in a community, you're apt to compare yourself even if you're not really supposed to.

Good for you for getting some names, and do make that phone call. You're not fucked up. My therapist is also in the same neighborhood as Children's -- I take a different exit so I don't have to drive by it. Sometimes it just sucks, and sometimes I feel like I'm really good having to confront everything, right there on the same turf.

Hang in there. Keep writing. Remember, your blog. Write what you want.

Newt said...

Thinking of you, also. Hope the new pharm can help, and you can get back on an upswing. Meanwhile, I'm out here listening.

c. said...

I think many of us share the feeling of being left behind. And it's so fucking hard not to compare. I think we all do it. I think we all feel guilty or weird about it. I hope you finish the post your started, I'd really like to read it.

And I think, in a way, none of us really know how to deal. It's not like there's an instruction manual. I mean, I know there are. Too many how-to have a stillbirth books, but they are not necessarily helpful in any way I've found. You just do what you can to muddle through this shit and hope that you're not too much more fucked up than you were before. It's a lot to ask, I know...

I'd say take care of yourself, but I'm not necessarily sure what that means anymore. Thinking of you, hoping that you can muddle through this shit the best you can, STE.

Natalie said...

I'm sorry you're feeling so down...I hope that the referred doc can help. I know the struggle for something... of being fucked up.

luna said...

my heart is heavy to think of the pain you're in, sue. I hope you do call that doc and find a comforting ear. you are not fucked up, just grieving.

luna said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Martin said...

small steps.

Heather said...

I hope this new doctor helps. I think being left behind is a common feeling amongst us babylost- I know I've felt it many times. And I share your frustration of trying to teach a productive course when you're feeling like this- I'm struggling too. Keep plodding- eventually we'll get somewhere. Thinking of you.

G$ said...

I so hear the feeling left behind in so many ways.

Big uncomfortable hugs from me.

xoxox

Martha@A Sense of Humor is Essential said...

I am giving you a virtual (Hug) and holding your hand. Please take good care, you are doing the best you can.

Amy said...

Holding you close to my heart today. Wishing you only the best and hoping some day the pain subsides at least just a little bit.
This is a rough road and sometimes, sometimes you can see the good sometimes all you see is the dark, it will get better, I believe it will.
Much love and peace to you.

Thalia said...

Sorry to hear you've been having such a hard time. I imagine with such grief there will be ups and downs for a long time, and despite what people say, you will never be 'over it', you will just feel it in a different way. Thinking of you and your boys.

Anonymous said...

feeling "out of it" is, in my experience, one of our common denominators. funny how so many of us experiencing something so similar can end up feeling so different. as if we all need one more way to feel isolated and alone.

i'm so sorry you're there right now. i'm so sorry you're there, ever.

and...if you decide to walk and want company, i'd be happy to join you. or even just to be there at the end if you want to do the walk alone.