I have done nothing but cry for days on end. I can't seem to focus on one thing. and I mostly just want to go back to bed. Which is so unlike me. I can't seem to want to play with the kids. and I can't seem to muster up the energy to interact with them. I guess you could say I am a bit burned out. Like the whole "kidney stone" was my breaking point. I feel at times that I can't do it anymore... I will... But It feels impossible. Immobilizing. and at times suffocating. Almost to the point of shouting "OK, I need a break from life!"
My in laws were here for about a day and a half. it was nice to see them. And the kids were so excited!! I was having another weepy day. So they watched the kids while I ran to the store. However I felt the need to go to the cemetery. I never feel the need to go to the cemetery but that day I did. I pulled in drove around the corner and parked. I got out of my car and all but ran to his grave. Where I laid down on top of it and cried my eyes out. There I was lying on my tummy head resting on the headstone just shaking with loss and heartache. The grief overcame me to just breathless sobs of despair. I laid there for awhile and then I sat up. I looked at his picture and wiped away the grass. I started to talk. Words that seemed empty..Along with the occasionally "I don't want to do this without you." I got up to leave. I didn't say goodbye I just walked to my car. Turned the AC on and melted into another puddle of tears. Gripping the steering wheel as if that was some sort of life line. I eventually turned the car around and drove out of the cemetary.
I drove to Walmart expecting to just get out of the car and go in and get the milk and things that I needed. But obviously I pulled into the spot and started to cry again. By this point it finally started to rain. And I really didn't want to get out of the car. I called a friend and went to her house. Where I cried on her some more and then fell asleep in her guest room.
The stupid thing about grief. There is no warning. It just smacks me upside the head and brings me to my knee's in no time flat. Most nights after the kids have gone to bed I have sat in my tub with the shower beating down on me. while I prayed to make it through another day. praying for some peace and comfort. It seems the shower has been my only place where I feel comforted. However it does make it a bit difficult when I want to go and lie in my shower and the kids want to run wild through the house. The shower seems to be the place to cry where I don't have to hide my tears from the kids. Where I feel as if my anxiety is being washed down the drain. As if being pummeled by water is enough to beat the "yucks' out. But it's the whole getting out and facing the world again that leaves me daunted.
I feel at times I am sitting in a grief hole. and I am just trying to find the best way to get out. sometimes it is hard to see through my tears the ladder in front of me. The problem is that no one can get me out of my hole. I have to do it myself. Sure anti anxiety meds and anti depression meds help a lot!! but it is still me that has to hard work at pulling on the rope and climb my way out. I know there are helping hand along the way for when I lose my footing. But the pain is mine. The fear is mine, the path is mine. So these last few days I have been at the bottom. But I have my hand on the ladder and I am working my way out. First one step and then the next. I know I can do it... I have done it before. It's just that right now the pain feels raw again. but in a new form. The realization is setting in. I am really here and he really isn't.
For the time being I stand at half way up the rope ladder. My hands are tired and raw. My face is streaked with tears and my body is tired and worn out. But I know that I have to get to the top. For me, for A, P, and CL, they need me and I need them. And I will get to the top. I will once again be hopeful, courageous, and playful. I didn't get this far in this crazy journey to give up..I didn't get this far to be a coward. I got this far because I believed in Pete, our kids believed in me, and I believed in myself. However right now it's finding that courage, that strength, that warrior to push through the pain, the heartache and the sorrow. And I have to remember the only way to do it, is to take it one crazy step at a time.
My in laws were here for about a day and a half. it was nice to see them. And the kids were so excited!! I was having another weepy day. So they watched the kids while I ran to the store. However I felt the need to go to the cemetery. I never feel the need to go to the cemetery but that day I did. I pulled in drove around the corner and parked. I got out of my car and all but ran to his grave. Where I laid down on top of it and cried my eyes out. There I was lying on my tummy head resting on the headstone just shaking with loss and heartache. The grief overcame me to just breathless sobs of despair. I laid there for awhile and then I sat up. I looked at his picture and wiped away the grass. I started to talk. Words that seemed empty..Along with the occasionally "I don't want to do this without you." I got up to leave. I didn't say goodbye I just walked to my car. Turned the AC on and melted into another puddle of tears. Gripping the steering wheel as if that was some sort of life line. I eventually turned the car around and drove out of the cemetary.
I drove to Walmart expecting to just get out of the car and go in and get the milk and things that I needed. But obviously I pulled into the spot and started to cry again. By this point it finally started to rain. And I really didn't want to get out of the car. I called a friend and went to her house. Where I cried on her some more and then fell asleep in her guest room.
The stupid thing about grief. There is no warning. It just smacks me upside the head and brings me to my knee's in no time flat. Most nights after the kids have gone to bed I have sat in my tub with the shower beating down on me. while I prayed to make it through another day. praying for some peace and comfort. It seems the shower has been my only place where I feel comforted. However it does make it a bit difficult when I want to go and lie in my shower and the kids want to run wild through the house. The shower seems to be the place to cry where I don't have to hide my tears from the kids. Where I feel as if my anxiety is being washed down the drain. As if being pummeled by water is enough to beat the "yucks' out. But it's the whole getting out and facing the world again that leaves me daunted.
I feel at times I am sitting in a grief hole. and I am just trying to find the best way to get out. sometimes it is hard to see through my tears the ladder in front of me. The problem is that no one can get me out of my hole. I have to do it myself. Sure anti anxiety meds and anti depression meds help a lot!! but it is still me that has to hard work at pulling on the rope and climb my way out. I know there are helping hand along the way for when I lose my footing. But the pain is mine. The fear is mine, the path is mine. So these last few days I have been at the bottom. But I have my hand on the ladder and I am working my way out. First one step and then the next. I know I can do it... I have done it before. It's just that right now the pain feels raw again. but in a new form. The realization is setting in. I am really here and he really isn't.
For the time being I stand at half way up the rope ladder. My hands are tired and raw. My face is streaked with tears and my body is tired and worn out. But I know that I have to get to the top. For me, for A, P, and CL, they need me and I need them. And I will get to the top. I will once again be hopeful, courageous, and playful. I didn't get this far in this crazy journey to give up..I didn't get this far to be a coward. I got this far because I believed in Pete, our kids believed in me, and I believed in myself. However right now it's finding that courage, that strength, that warrior to push through the pain, the heartache and the sorrow. And I have to remember the only way to do it, is to take it one crazy step at a time.
Hang in there, Kathryn. I know you haven't given up or you wouldn't be writing this blog. And you're definitely NOT a coward.
ReplyDeleteI again read your comment on my blog after my husband died, so I wanted to stop by and see how you're doing. It's been 8 months since James died, and I'm still pulling myself up the rope. If you feel like posting something, let me know how you're doing.
ReplyDeleteBrenda
I'm almost 5 months out. I can relate to so much of what you write.
ReplyDelete