Another day, another struggle

Yesterday was a struggle. Not the normal struggle of just getting up and getting through the day. No, yesterday I had to go school with Jacob. Sit in the cafeteria, eat lunch with him and a hundred plus 2nd graders.

Being the Indian of the week is an honor each child gets. They get to invite one person to eat lunch with them. Jonathan had chosen his daddy. Jacob, me.

I made it through without incident, no tears, no breakdowns. Luckily no one said much of anything to me. I slipped in, ate my sandwich, slipped out.

Grief is such an odd thing, sometimes the strangest ideas stick with you. Yes, I’m glad I was able to slide through the half hour virtually unnoticed, but then a small part of me feels like that petulant child, stomping her foot and saying – hey, someone acknowledge me please.

Like a second personality, grief plants ideas in my head that are not my own.

Then I had to pick Zachary up from Preschool. Listening to the Grandmothers chat about how they have no patience to handle their grandchildren, left me with a sour taste in my mouth. I wanted to shout at them – be thankful you have those grandchildren to drive you crazy.

Instead I found myself standing there with tears in my eyes, wondering how I was ever going to make it through this near-daily crazy.

*sigh*

My morning adventures left me drained, so after Zachary ate his lunch, he and I took  a much deserved nap. I woke up just in time for the boys to get home from school and to get dinner going.

I hate how I don’t feel in control of anything. Of my thoughts, of my actions. I hate how grief has become my constant companion and I’m at the mercy of  my tears.

I hate the isolation and emptiness that my mind imposes on me. I hate the waiting. Waiting for “it” to get better. As if “it” was just a tiny paper-cut that that needed to knit itself back together, instead of a gaping wound that hasn’t even begun to scab over.

I hate it because I fear it. I fear life may never get better. I fear I will always feel this desperation to exist. As if simply existing was ever the goal in life.

I hate how a freak turn of events shifted my entire world and I am helpless to shift it back.

I hate grief and everything it manifests.

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Categories: Life | Tags: , , , | 9 Comments

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9 thoughts on “Another day, another struggle

  1. I hate your grief too. I hate that yesterday I was short with my daughter all day instead of being thankful that I had her here to be short with. I hate that your every waking moment is filled not only with grief, but with doubt and uncertainty as well. I wish I could tell you that “it” would get better….
    But I guess there is no comfort or truth in those words. All I can say is that I’m glad that I found you to connect with, even if I can’t make “it” all go away.

  2. Remember, it’s a process, and it will get better. Of course, it’s easy for me to say that–not being where you’re at. xoxo

  3. Kim Woehl

    I will simply say that I hear what you are saying, and feeling a small bit of your desperation for the next step of the grieving process to arrive and allow you to take one step forward.

  4. I just wanted you to know I am still praying for you and your family. I wish you only good things.

  5. I know you are all too familiar with grief. I know you know that it can take forever and can manifest at the strangest of times

    I’m sorry you didn’t say what you wanted to say to the grandmothers though you’re probably glad

    I’m very sorry for everything. I can’t imagine going through what you are and remaining as strong

  6. Patty

    I’m thankful that you were able to get through the day yesterday! That itself is an accomplishment for which you can be grateful. I remember a time when I took my son who had had surgery at three days old to repair his esophagus that did not connect to his stomach, to a department store when he was about a month old. He still had a hacking cough from the surgery, but he was healthy. Some old ladies made a comment about how horrible I was for bringing my son out when he sounded like a honking geese. I did all I could to refrain from snapping back that this was the healthiest he’d been since he was born, and it was really none of their business. Some days it’s better just to bite the tongue. At the same time, it makes me stop and think before making stupid comments myself to someone that I really have no idea what is going on in their life at the time. If only we could all be more sensitive to other people and less judgmental… but then that would be heaven.

  7. I read all of your posts – I never miss any. I have no idea how long the grieving process takes, but if you need help or questioning how. It might be time to see a doctor, who can prescribe medication. Two weeks ago I could barely get off my couch to do things – my doctor prescribed a medication and all of my filing is done, all my medical stuff is either paid, paying down or typed up a letter. Things are slowly getting done and if I wasn’t sick today – a whole lot would have been completed. I am not saying you need medication and or you should get on some – my recommendation is keep writing (certainly a great outlet) and see a doctor to make sure it isn’t getting to be more than just grieving. Just maintain the attitude to be realistic – if things aren’t where you think they should be, don’t wait. I waited way too, long and I only added to my kids issues. I think it is ok, to continue to grieve – but, if you are questioning it, leave that up to a professional to decide.
    On a side note, I am an exasperated mother of 3 special needs boys. I can tell you off the cuff, I am not normally proud to be their mother – I hope that changes, but more often than not they are embarrassing to say the LEAST. I happen to gripe about it often and never think someone in the crowd, that someone has lost the chance to be a mother to one or more children – It is a snapshot of those 5 minutes, not realistically goes on behind closed doors before and after. So, my point is that – NOBODY should be judged by thier covers, what they show, what they say, but what they have in their hearts. Blessings to all and give someone a kind thought to ponder – Amy – you are so strong!!!

  8. idiosyncraticeye

    Sometimes wouldn’t it just be easier if grief was the kind of thing that you can just stick a plaster on and when you took it off, all of the bad was gone? Grieving is an exhausting, confusing and demanding process. Don’t feel bad for feeling the way you do and don’t be afraid to ask for help, whether from a doctor as Diane suggests or someone else. Sadly, grief is like most mental health issues, it’s a problem that we’d rather ignore ourselves and most other folks would prefer that we keep it to ourselves. Likewise it’s not a weakness to grieve, you don’t have to just pull your socks up. Feel away, work through the process even when it throws curve balls and bad days at you. All my thoughts are with you. 🙂

  9. sharon

    No ‘It’ won’t get better – but you will get better at living with it. Eventually.

    I’m so sorry you were distressed by the grandparents’ comments. Underneath your grief you know how exhausting, and exasperating at times, small children can be. Occasionally it is too much for a grandparent to go through all over again when they are slowing down a little or looking to have a life of their own after their children have left the nest, but I’m sure they are all grateful to have their grandchildren happy and healthy. And on another day not so long ago you would have seen that too.

    Shed your tears as and when you need to and if anyone asks – tell them why. A hug from a stranger is almost as comforting as one from a friend.

    xox

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