11 Feb how long?
Sometimes I don’t know what to write. I am consumed with sadness and who wants to keep reading about that? Then I remind myself that this blog is for me, and I need to get a few things out of my head, out of my heart, and onto paper so I can move on. This blog isn’t for the readers, although they have been an incredible source of encouragement on this crazy journey. I read every blog comment, every facebook note, and I soak it all in. I’ve even received two nasty, hateful comments in 8 months and although I didn’t allow those to be posted for fear they would start a riot and discourage other readers who find the blog to be a source of help, I let the comments absorb as well. The good with the bad, I suppose? Hundreds of encouraging comments have been posted on the blog, as well as the facebook pages, and I am forever grateful for people who take time to encourage me. It seems so needy to admit it, but I crave those comments and affirmations. It really, truly helps me keep things in perspective as I walk through this new life and try to navigate my way through sadness and grief, depression and despair.
I feel such a dark cloud over me. It’s difficult to describe because I am normally such a joyful person… I still have inner joy, still have moments of laughter and happiness with my friends, but the core of me has been altered. I feel the presence of sadness lurking just around the corner. Its shadow is always in my peripheral vision. Its image in my mind, it rides along with me throughout the work day, patiently waiting in the backseat and accompanying me wherever I go. There is a shadow in my bedroom, a dulling of color in my life. It’s always present. It’s inescapable. I’m just so tired of it, but what do I do?
I wish I had a timeline… I wish I knew how many days I had left on this earth. I’d make the most of them (as I have been doing). I’d serve others and find ways to tell people how much they matter. I think the only thing that would change is me. There would be a spring in my step because I would know when, exactly when, I would see my Mason again. I would have a deadline, a finite amount of punishment, a limit on this ever present cloud of sadness. I could look at it and say, “Your days are numbered.” I would know exactly how much more time I would have to exist before seeing that beautiful face, and finally having an opportunity to say all the things I so desperately need to say. I know that timeline exists and the clock ticks off the minutes left in my life. I just don’t know what it is and I ache to know that number. It would give me hope.
Knowing the day of my death would actually give me hope.
I am really struggling. I looked up the stages of grief again because I felt like I had regressed a little. There are varying opinions on the exact number of stages but here is one I found that I can relate to:
7 stages of grief
1) Shock and denial
2) Pain and guilt
3) Anger and bargaining
4) Depression, reflection, and loneliness
5) The upward turn
6) Reconstruction and working through
7) Acceptance and hope
I thought I had moved through these stages and was adjusting exceptionally well. The aMasongrace project was helping me to keep moving and stay positive. It was giving me a sense of purpose. Recently, however, it feels like I’ve slipped backwards. I guess that happens… but when you experience it yourself, it feels a lot like failure. It is exhausting. There is really no other way to describe this… it is purely exhausting. I try to be happy and have fun. I try to stay social (the recluse gig was a tough stage and I don’t want to fall back into the ‘cave’ as I am afraid I’d never come back out). I planned trips and saw my friends and family in different parts of the world. I embraced adventure and said yes to almost anything. I told Fear to take a hike and did things I never thought I would do! Those days felt really good. Eventually, though, I had to face real life. I knew I had to learn how to do the ‘day to day’ which is insanely hard and definitely not as fun as being on permanent vacation.
That is where I am stuck.
I’m home. I work. I do the daily routine. But now that I am in one spot, the cloud of sadness caught up with me and hovers so closely, I can almost smell it. Who has ever been this sad??? Tell me how you survived. Tell me how you found hope. Tell me what you did to dispel the cloud of sadness and give room to joy. A friend told me today, “…this sucks so much and I can’t fix it. I’m a fixer. And I can’t fix it.” She was spot on. That is exactly what I am struggling with! I cannot undo this or redo it. I cannot prevent it or fix it. There is no solution to be found. There is only time. Which brings me back to “How long?!?!!” I just wish I knew because I cannot continue to live like this. I am broken and exhausted, sad, devastated, oh-so-blue. There just are no words.
I’ve met a few mamas who can relate; a few mothers who have experienced a loss like mine. I look at their faces and I see survivors. I want to hug them extra long & hard when I find out they have experienced this pain. It’s unimaginable, yet I know exactly what they felt when it was their turn. How did they survive this? I think I am going to have to start asking. I am out of ideas. People are kind, mostly. Friends want to support me, love me, and encourage me. They want to help but they cannot. No one really can. I have to walk this path myself.
I just wish I knew how long.