It’s been quiet here. I just haven’t known what to say. So often I feel like I’ve been dragging around my problems, always with some new story about a doctor’s visit or trouble to share, exhausting everyone who comes in contact with me by talking about what really is going on. I sometimes think, when did I become that girl? I don’t want to be that person people feel sorry for or avoid because their reality is just too heavy. I vacillate between feeling sad about this and feeling angry. Sometimes I feel numb which is an odd reprieve.
But the thing is, I went through a door and I can’t get back. Because once you go through the proverbial door, it’s gone. I went through one door when they found the cancer. There was no returning to the person I was before those words were spoken. It changed me in such profound ways that a year and a half later, I still don’t comprehend the breadth of it. I went through another door when we lost the baby. I feel like I’m still stuck in a room with no way out after that experience. I get flashes of it from time to time- like full-body remembering when I was writhing in pain and scared out of my mind while machines beep and Darcy looks at me with complete and utter anguish. That shit was real and awful and even my body isn’t done processing it all.
There are moments where I feel okay. I’ve got my brave face on with only a few cracks here or there, mostly around the eyes, where people might glimpse my sadness. I go out in the world, make small talk, work, run errands, and try to be a functioning human. But mostly I’m at home with my husband and our pets, where it feels safest. Where I don’t have to be “together” and okay with the fact that our baby ruptured inside of me and we’re not going to have our own biological children. I can cry in the kitchen while making Thanksgiving stuffing because I’m overcome with sadness about not passing on our family traditions to our child. I don’t have to pretend it’s okay for the sake of everyone else’s feelings. Because it is not okay and it probably will never be okay and trying to swallow that reality pill is huge and it’s stuck in my throat.
I’ve learned a lot of things these past two years having gone through my own personal tragedies. And mostly what I know for sure is I know nothing is for certain. I will never understand why life unfolds as it does or why bad things happen to good people or why we think qualifying a person as bad or good means they deserve an easier or better life or why we put so much pressure on ourselves to live a certain way, so busy striving for it, we hardly get to enjoy it or why some friends disappear when shit gets hard and others show up at your doorstep to hold your hand while you cry or why some people get to have babies but don’t want them and others can’t but want them desperately or why most of us are so scared of saying the wrong thing we say nothing at all. . .
Lately, I don’t trust all my reactions because I’m raw and easily hurt. I’m quick to frustration and easily stressed. My memory is shot. I make simple errors because I’m not operating at 100%. I sleep fitfully and feel tired a lot. It’s not pretty. I miss caring about pretty. I miss the me that didn’t know what I know now.
The holidays feel tough this year but then again most things feel difficult. We’ll get a tree and maybe the twinkling lights will bring some cheer. We’ll go back east to visit family and maybe the togetherness and change of scenery will do some good. I’m taking most of December off from work to regroup, disconnect from the daily grind to reconnect with myself, and hopefully move through some of these stuck places. As if unsticking your stuck places is as easy as that. “I’ve scheduled time to get unstuck- let’s do this!”
We’ll see what happens. I have no idea what’s next. When I find the door, I’ll let you know.