Doors

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.

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27 thoughts on “Doors

  1. Sweet Sizzle… You’ve been on my mind and in my heart for months, and as someone who “knows” you from afar, I’ve definitely fallen into the place of saying less so as not to say the wrong thing. But the silent flow of love is ever present…

    I’m so happy to hear you’re taking time for you (and Chris and Otis, etc.) and contemplating unstuckness. I hope your time is peaceful, powerful and positive.

    I stumbled upon Danielle LaPorte several months ago and am just starting her book The Desire Map. She suggests pursuing how we want to *feel* in life and letting that guide our actions. It seems simple yet profound. She’s on FB, has her own site, etc, if you’re interested. There’s actually a world-wide book club for the book beginning Jan 7th too. If you find yourself on that path, let me know.

    Either way, lots of love and light to you!
    xoxo, Aimee

  2. <3. Big hugs my friend. The holidays can be so hard. I hope taking time for you, Chris, Otis and the cats will bring you some peace. Or at least give you the space to feel what you feel instead of putting on a brave face. You are often in my thoughts.

  3. Oh, you have SO been in my thoughts, but I am absolutely a person who talks myself out of saying anything when I’m not sure what The Right Thing to say is. (So…my comment may ramble, but it comes from a good place, I swear!)

    It’s ok to really just be in all of this: the sadness, the anger — ALL OF IT. I mean, I actually think you have to go there. And you’ve done such a good job (at least it seems from afar) of doing that. There’s no blueprint for grief, and I think so often we all find ourselves grieving for these lives that we expected to have, without even realizing that we had the expectation. It’s the human condition I think.

    I have walked through some real tragedies in my life and I don’t think they ever get easier in the raw moments when they are happening, or when we are processing them. But I do think what happens is that over time we become more comfortable with who we are going through them. We learn to make less judgments about how long is the right amount of time to feel sad, we make less judgments about how “this present life” is so damn rage-inducingly different then “the life we should have access to” and we get better. As humans. In our relationships. All of it.

    It’s so hard, and I mostly just want to say that I wish it were different. But I do think it will get better — because making things better is a choice, and with every post you write, or feeling you express, or night you stay in with your adorable family because it feels safe and nurturing is a step in that direction. And you have so many hearts near and far cheering you on and wanting to support you on that journey.

  4. You’ve had a crappy 18 months and you most certainly deserve to be down, introspective, not yourself, questioning who is Sizzle and any other feeling that comes your way. Trying to chart a new plan for your life at 40 sucks and I can’t imagine how impossible that must feel. Your friends, whether vocal are not, most of them are there for you. And sometimes they (we?) get caught up in our own messy lives, so we don’t reach out when we should or often enough. And, I imagine that comes across as us not knowing what to say or just not wanting to talk about the messier things in life; while that might be true for one or two, my guess is that most of us just drop the ball. Anyway, all of that is to say that I wish I were more vocal and checked in more often; and I hope for more settled, content, fulfilled days in your future; and even during my quieter moments, I’m still putting out the call to the Universe for all of those things to come your way.

  5. Like so many others, I’ve been thinking of you too. I’m glad you checked it. Your readers love the minutia of your life, you know, and I hope you’ll check in more often if you feel you can.

    I have always thought grief was a solitary pursuit. Others can provide distraction and/or comfort, but we must do the hard wrestling alone, which tends to isolate us. Perhaps some people recognize this and are respecting the space of what is intrinsically a singular and private journey.

    I quoted this passage from Elizabeth Cady Stanton at my mother’s funeral. Some find it bleak; I find it comforting. “Whatever the theories may be of woman’s dependence on man, in the supreme moments of her life he can not bear her burdens. Alone she goes to the gates of death to give life to every man that is born into the world. No one can share her fears, no one mitigate her pangs; and if her sorrow is greater than she can bear, alone she passes beyond the gates into the vast unknown . . . In that solemn solitude of self, that links us with the immeasurable and the eternal, each soul lives alone forever.”

    For me, this represents assurance that I am enough, I am strong, I can endure, abide and pass through the greatest trials. You can, too, I am certain.

    Many hugs and wishes for understanding and peace.

  6. I’m so glad you are able to take some time off. That’ll be so helpful.

    If I’ve learned anything in life it’s that we can’t push off our bad or good experiences. We have to embrace them because they affect who we are. We just can’t let them define us.

    Always here for you lady. xoxo

  7. I don’t know anything about you but your words but I think of you often- especially now. It sucks not knowing what to say but I’m learning that saying nothing may actually be worse than saying the wrong thing? Hang in there. You are an amazing person living an inspiring life. It is painful to know that you are suffering. And it is so unfair.

  8. I’ve read you for years now and it makes me feel a little desperate that you are suffering so – that you’ve been handed such a difficult hand of cards. Know that in the anonymous world of the internet reader you have many people who care tremendously about how you feel and read and think about every word you write. Take care of yourself.

  9. Here is something funny. Without you ever realizing it, me included, Mr. Darcy made you your own version of Harry Potter. Check out the last three comics of yourself in your header. He put the Harry Potter lightening bolt in your hair instead of your forehead like Harry. YOU ARE SOMETHING PRETTY SPECIAL. 🙂 Cheers from Springfield, South Dakota …. (My 4th home since meeting you four homes ago…back in 2004 I believe if MY memory serves me correctly….). I think of you often. Peace and love, Amy S. Petrik

  10. I’ve got your blog on my iPhone screen and I’ve tapped on it everyday to see if you’ve posted. Once again, every single damn word completely resonates with me. It’s like I think or feel it, and you eloquently write it down. There is someone else on this earth that is feeling exactly how I’m feeling at this moment. Guess I’m not insane after all.

  11. I’m thinking of you today, way over here in the snowy Ozarks. I’m glad you are taking time off and tucking in.

  12. So after reading the other comments I was going to leave this page because I felt like I couldn’t write near as eloquently as the other commenters . . . . but my computer kept getting stuck . . . guess I was meant to comment. I’ve been reading you forever but only comment occasionally. But what I DO do each. and. every. day. is pray for you.
    I’m glad you are able to take some time off. I hope that time is not filled with endless to do lists but that you can take some time to just BE and to process. Many hugs and prayers to you Sizz.

  13. grief. it’s a hard hard thing isn’t it? i totally hear you on the being at home, feeling comfort in being home and the ability to be as real as you need to. i have found the same need – to find happy, to find the small stuff but to also cry.it.out. sending you BIG hugs for the holiday season and to find joy in everyday small things. we’re rooting for you.

  14. It is pretty effed up the way things work sometimes. It doesn’t make sense when bad things happen to good people. You deserve so much happiness and I hope you can find bits and pieces and glimmers that start to fuze together to create a bigger picture for you. A door. Thank you for continuing to write in this space even in this tough time. You’re an inspiration and I’m sure a huge comfort to a lot of people wading through their own muck. Sending good juju to you through the rest of the month and into 2014. XO

  15. Peace be with you soon…I don’t know what the reason is for all this happening at once for you but I sincerely believe that there is always a reason for the things that happen I hope it all become clear for you sooner than later.

  16. You’re absolutely spot-on with the door analogy. That’s so perfect. I often in my life have looked back and thought, “I will never be that person again.” And I’m not about to tell you life will suddenly become amazing and you’ll feel miraculously better, because this will always, always be with you – these experiences will shape you. But there is more and there will be more and one day when you don’t notice you’ll realise you’ve stopped feeling so sad. Until then wallow and wallow some more. There is no shame in being sad and needing to cry. That’s not weakness: that’s feelings. Feel them all. And just keep trudging through the daily grind. In a way that dark lulling depression is a comfort. Because when you’re that sad you can’t sink any lower and in a way it’s nice to just stop there. Just make sure you don’t get lost. Make sure you keep looking for a way out. It is there. You will find it. But I won’t pretend it will come easily. *hugs*

  17. I’ve been reading your blog for more than 10 years. At least. I rarely commented because, after all, what could I possibly say that would make any difference or have enough wisdom to change anything. It’s been a while since you posted. I’m thinking about you and offering prayers that you and Mr. Darcy are both doing well.

  18. I was at a conference where Jane Caro told us about what a grief counsellor told her when she gave birth and her little girl nearly died that helped her. He said “There’s nothing special about you or anyone – bad things happen to all sorts of people. Safety is an ILLUSION. Danger is reality. Give up trying to stay safe and in control. Carry on as if nothing bad is going to happen and then if something bad happens deal with it then.”
    Obviously the worst has already happened to you. And you will never be okay with it. And that’s okay. Take care xooxx

  19. I hope all is ok with you Miss Sizzle.
    With the Spring coming in, I hope you can start afresh.
    I like this song..you might like it too.

    Remember how strong you are. 🙂
    And thanks for sharing.

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