To put it plainly: I do not enjoy blogging right now, though. Still.
I have turned very inward. Mostly because I feel the same…yet, maybe a bit darker even. I think "depressed" could be an accurate term for me. Though, you probably wouldn't know it if you saw me. I am not typically a "woe is me" type of person. This is the place where I spill my woes…and I even avoid it on here lately.
My anxiety keeps me home and unsocialized…as does the fear of this horrid flu that is going around. "Knock on wood" we have not caught it yet. I am very diligent and proactive about immune system building. But, as you know, we have EVERY reason in the world to fear the flu virus. I have read that there have been 7 deaths from this flu in just the Portland area! Wow. I have not been able to find any information on whether myocarditis was documented, but I highly suspect that it had to be the cause of at least some of the deaths. Horrible.
When people ask me how I am I say that I am "surviving". It's the best I can say. It's the best I can do. Ivy distracts me enough during the "on" hours of the day when she is awake. While I am with her I do not have the opportunity to dwell on my darkness…which is good. I muster fake smiles when out in public. When Ivy naps or goes to bed I overstimulate my mind with the computer (Pinterest or Facebook or research or blogs) along with some stupid show in the background. I used to love to read. I hate it now. Too much opportunity for my mind to wander to dark things. I struggle to get to sleep at night. I will lay in bed for up to an hour playing a mindless game on my phone until my eyes can no longer stay open. It is the only way I can fall asleep. If I just lay there, I will be haunted by recurring images of that nightmare of a morning…the last one I spent with my Precious Vienne. And, that will lead me into a downward spiral of bad thoughts. I can't let myself go there.
I am still struggling spiritually. Actually, to put it more accurately - I am avoiding almost all things "spiritual". We do still try to attend our church every now and again, though. We love our church. We love our "family" there. But, sermons are very difficult for me to sit through. I have a skeptical doubting thought about almost everything that is taught. I still do not trust God. How am I to learn to trust Him again? I do not know the answer to that one. And, therefore, I am very uncomfortable with the topic of prayer. ….which, I think I've decided I will write about, solely, in another blog post.
My health was starting to get worse over the past few months, as well. I have dropped over 20 pounds off my small frame since Vienne passed away. That was not an intentional or necessary weight loss. It's been very difficult for my doctor to determine what exactly has been causing my maladies. I finally went in for a colonoscopy a few weeks ago. Fun times, fun times. And, they found nothing. Nothing! So shocking. We thought for sure that they would find signs of Crohns Disease or Ulcerative Colitis. But, nope. My doctor is sure now that my sick body has been a result of my grief and anxiety. Crazy, right? Crazy how that can be translated to the physical.
My anxiety has been so bad that I just cannot handle much. Why am I not on meds? Well, for one, I am not comfortable with meds. But, two, I am also still nursing Ivy. Because she and I enjoy it. But, my anxiety has definitely taken a severe dip from last year. I feel that I can no longer control it now, in front of others. It is palpable when I am in a group setting. I feel like my exterior is all just a cracked shell and I am constantly and relentlessly trying to keep all the cracked pieces in place but it is so hard and so impossible. Then, one little itty bitty tiny misstep or trip or bump causes me to lose hold of those precariously placed pieces. And, I fall apart. And, then I feel ashamed and guilty. So guilty that I made a mess everywhere - spilling my brokenness all over the place. So guilty that I may have disrupted the moment or the mood. And, I am full of emphatic apology as I quickly try to sweep it all back up and put it all back into place. I do not know what else to do or how else to manage it. But no wonder my stomach is a wreck.
Mark and I are doing well, together. He is my safety, my strength, and my ultimate support. This man just knows me. And, I am so thankful that I have a safe place in him when I am going through an anxious episode. He never takes anything personally. Ever. When he senses that I am anxious, he will gently and quietly rub my back, whisper in my ear that I am doing a great job, and he will take Ivy or help me out with whatever I am struggling with. He helps to calm me.
We have taken a break from counseling. I feel the "whys" screaming at me, already, through the computer. Let me explain. I know that everyone believes that we should be in counseling…me, especially. But, why? I have discovered that is encouraged by many because deep down everyone wants to be able to help me in some way. They realize that they can't…but suggesting or encouraging counseling is something that they can offer. But, you go to counseling to get fixed, for the most part. …to fix a broken relationship….to fix a shattered self-worth…to fix emotional issues resulting from abuse or….etc. You know. But, I started to realize, while in counseling, that this is something that cannot be fixed. After time, I started to get frustrated that our counselor rarely offered advice or suggestions for things to try. But, then I also realized that if he had, I would have been irritated and offended. You can't offer advice to fix grief over a dead child. That broken heart is just one of the few things that cannot be "fixed". And, even my resulting symptoms I've developed from my grief cannot yet be fixed. It's too early. My anxiety is normal and understandable…he knew that I need to go through this and not squelch it. Every single feeling that I expressed to him, he would reply back with "well, yes, that seems very understandable". It certainly SUCKS what I am feeling and going through…but at the same time, feeling the opposite would be horrifying and weird. Calm and happy? One year after my child died? Um. No. Maybe it would be appropriate to seek further help if I am still depressed in a few years…but right now, I realized that it was kind of pointless. He was just a listening ear to talk to. I can do that with people in my life. Did any of this make sense?
This is where I'm at. Not so pretty. I don't feel so great inside. I still need support and love. I know it is a struggle for people to know what to say. But, let me say something loud and clear:
SAYING SOMETHING IS OFTEN BETTER THAN IGNORING ME COMPLETELY.
Well, that's just awkward for everyone…and, gosh, just not very kind. Yes. Yes. There are the stupid things that could be said….like what is shared in this blog post. But, if you really cared and really had a heart for our situation, you would know not to say such thoughtless things. Those are things you say to someone when you are not really thinking…when you are not invested. (Thank you to the "Anonymous Reader" who shared that link, by the way.)
Thank you for being here for me as I wade through this muck.
{here is a silly cute picture of my darling Ivy, wearing a face that shares how I feel. ;)}
