The vicious cycle

IMG_1372I keep writing things.  I have all these files on my computer of things I have written and I can’t bear to post them.  It sort of mirrors a lot of the way I am feeling right now.    Both my husband and I seem to be having difficulty getting out.   Hard to leave the house, figure out something to do.  Easy to say no to activities or say yes and then not go.

Not sure who to call and ask to do anything.   Feeling very hesitant to commit to anything.   Then, annoyed when you accomplish nothing.

I have come to accept that almost everywhere I go there is either a reminder, visually or something someone says that is going to make me think about my son.   There really does not need to be a reminder, but some things said about children, or off hand comments that I used to ignore or maybe even thought were funny strike me wrong.  I know the person speaking does not have the point of reference I do.

I wonder if I am staying closeted away to avoid those circumstances.   Not that it makes me think about my son less.   The very idea of thinking about him less makes me nervous.  My husband and daughter and I feel at times we are the only ones remembering him at all.   I know his friends think of him, but maybe like me they try to keep it themselves.

How can someone be so utterly gone?  Not even a ripple on the surface of the water to be found.  When I feel anger at times it is directed towards the audacity of life to go on without noticing.

So many people die every day.  Every day.  Every one of those people have someone who notices, hopefully cares.  Every one of those people are the child of someone whether living or dead.  And I hate to admit  it, but I don’t want to think about them.

I want to think about my one person.  I want everyone to stop and say – yes indeed – your one person was the most important, wonderful, loving . . . etc. etc. etc.   I’m no different from the people I get annoyed with!   Why has this not made me more empathetic?

Well it did for a while.  I scoured the news and read about ever incident of an accidental death or children dying.   And I sat in my puddle for the day after reading it.   So I knew I was not alone in my suffering, but I was alone with my particular suffering.   Because try as I might I cannot get out of my own head.  Not possible.

After a while reading about other’s losses wears your brain out from the grief.   Like eating hot peppers – you may finally by eating them often enough build up a tolerance.   Then is when I get spooked!  What if I am getting used to the idea of my son being gone!

That idea is depressing.   So the cycle spins around again.

And even as I am writing this, I am wondering to myself – should I even bother to post this?  What difference does it really make?    Do I feel any better having written it, or does it just confirm – document where I am?  GPS – Grief Processing System.

Well, I am not above making fun of myself either.   Sometimes my alter ego steps out and asks the women in the mirror what the heck she thinks she is doing?   But then I always considered my son as part of my alter ego.  So you can see how easy this is to get back to square one again.

I am here and he is not.  I will be here until I am not here anymore.  I will feel this way until I don’t feel this way anymore.

So, I have to work on making myself get out again.   Leave myself an escape route – always an escape route – but go anyway.   It takes so much energy sometimes there is hardly anything left once I get to where I am going.  But maybe the getting there is the victory – though no one else will notice.

About pathfinder

Artist, Writer, Walking wounded.
This entry was posted in Coping with the Death of a Child, Death, Family, Friends and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to The vicious cycle

  1. Drew says:

    I am so glad you posted this. It is so beautifully written, and so very true. I cannot thank you enough for putting voice to your thoughts and feelings. My daughter Julia died just 5 1/2 months ago and your thoughts, while not exactly identical to mine, are similar enough so that I feel less alone. Yes, I am grieving my own one person, just as you are grieving yours, and there is the enormous love we have for them that will never end until, perhaps, we both die. I’d like to think that love will go on and on, even after we die, throughout eternity. Perhaps it will. In the meantime, thank you so very much for sharing this post.

  2. I, too, am thankful (as always) for your thoughts and your writings. You give voice and structure to my feelings. It does help (a little) to feel understood and therefore less alone in the world.

    I, too, feel reluctant to call anyone and my husband and I only accept a few invitations (we don’t get a lot). We feel uncomfortable in normal social situations and so protect ourselves by being very selective about who we spend time with. Neither of us can even bear the thought of parties, weddings, festivals, etc. We just don’t fit in anymore.

    I know what you mean about being preoccupied with thoughts of your son. My mother died 4 1/2 years ago (she was my best friend) and my dad died in 1977. Thoughts about my son push everything else out of my head and now, when I think about my mother, I wonder what she would say. Losing a child is so unnatural that it just can’t be integrated like a normal loss. It destroys us and I guess we have to figure out how to rebuild ourselves.

    I do know that it hasn’t been very long for you and perhaps you are expecting more from yourself than you should at this point. There really is no need to hurry this process. There is no wonderful goal that we will then reach.

    It’s good that you are trying to get out more and still leaving yourself an “escape” when you do. Eventually, I suspect, it will feel more natural. I hope so.

    • pathfinder says:

      Thank you. I do appreciate what you say. You are right and maybe that is the trouble – I don’t know what goal it is I am trying to reach. The rebuilding is so slow. I thought about how quickly footsteps in the sand wash away and I realized that what I have rebuilt thus far is a lot like a sand castle. It gets swept away so quickly. Again, thank you.

  3. Tonnye Fletcher says:

    Pam, even though our circumstances are incredibly different, I hear myself in some of your words nonetheless…been wallowing a bit myself lately….dates are killers…for me, August 27, September 11, and February 20…. And then, there’s Mothers Day….let’s don’t even talk about that one….so many questions, no answers…just this attempt to press on to normalcy, when it feels like at any moment, your entire body will just implode… Occasional wishes just to fade…not to die or commit suicide, but just simply to not exist, so as not to have to feel, process, function, be strong…I only had a dream of babies to hold, so I cannot even begin to fathom the grief of 29 years of loving and nurturing. Continuing to pray for you and Earl and others I know who’ve lost a child. Trusting that He will keep His promise to work all things together for good…and knowing that He is already using your grief, and your beautiful talent with words to help others along on the journey of healing….love you so much!

    • pathfinder says:

      Dear Sweet Tonnye, I wish I could fix everything for both of us. I am working through my faith with fear and trembling. There are some questions that will just go unanswered for now. I am dealing with the new normal – but I sure even that will change with time. Love you.

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