Silent All These Years

Hi –

I’ve been silent lately. Not in life, or in my head, or in my heart. Just on here. Sorry about that. It’s not that I don’t have things to say. I could talk to you for the rest of my life and never run out of things to say.  I guess I just haven’t been in the right place to sit down and put it all down. I talk to you all day in my head – do you here me then?

I wonder if my lack of voice here is sign of where I am with my denial and detachment. Am I burying myself deeper down into it, or have I found a way to get my head above the water? Probably the former, if the tears clouding my vision are any inclination.

Today was the one-year anniversary of when Nona passed away. Are you two somewhere hanging out, drinking wine? I think I’ve reached this point of unbelievable selfishness in my life. Kahni mentioned it to me on Tuesday and it completely slipped my mind until well into the evening today.  I’m constantly fearful I’m not being the friend to Sara that I should be and want to be in my heart. Sometimes I just can’t see past my own nose. It’s awful. I even managed to forget Matthew’s birthday. I’m a winner for sure.

I have found myself doing this really really awful thing lately. I’m measuring people’s grief and comparing it to my own. It’s awful. Quite possibly one of the worst things I could do. The first thing you learn about grief is that no two peoples are the same. Even when it’s for the same person. And yet, when I hear that someone; who has lived a long, healthy, wonderful life, and were given the opportunity to live out all their possibilities dies; I harden inside. There’s a small part of me that thinks - you have no idea. You can’t possibly. It’s really quite horrible of me.

Kahni made a really important point to me the other day that no matter the age of the woman when she dies, she’s still someone’s mommy. I try to remember that. Hold onto it.

It’s just not fair.

Love you forever, Miss you always.

Rachel

“…Don't you dare look out your window darling


Everything's on fire


The war outside our door keeps raging on…”

100 posts later, and i'm still here....

Hi –

So this is post 100. I guess that is some sort of accomplishment. Perhaps a ‘go me’ is in order.

I broke up with Judith today. I really didn’t feel like I was getting anything out of going to her, so I very politely told her that. I told her it might have been too early for me to be seeing someone. I explained how intellectually I understand that you are gone, but emotionally I don’t get it. Emotionally I think it’s just the most ridiculous thing I have EVER heard. She didn’t understand what I was saying to her. I guess that right there is a huge sign that maybe we were not meant to be therapist and patient.

She got very stuck on my use of the word ridiculous to describe how I feel about everything. She kept asking what I meant, what does ridiculous mean. I told her I could Google it for her if she liked – that probably was a bit smart-assish of me. I tried to explain that it was ridiculous in the sense that my entire life changed in a split second. How all my hopes and dreams for the future were now different. How you wouldn’t be there to see me get married one day, or how my children would not have a grandma on my side – that is all ridiculous. She still didn’t seem to get it. Either that or she’s really good at the whole devils advocate thing.

She did tell me that I was a very difficult patient to have. How she felt I brought 10% to the sessions and she was bringing 90%. And how she was always searching for things to talk to me about, and that was one of the reasons she always brought up men. Because that was an area of my life that seemed to not be as developed as others and that it might need some attention. I told her for the millionth time that that was just not how I think or act. I did not go about my day to day activities with a goal of meeting a man. And that I generally don’t like people who operate that way.

The word detached came up again. I explained my theory that another reason I thought I was having a hard time with all of this, was because I didn’t have something that needed to be ‘fixed’ or ‘worked through.’ That there was no changing this fact about my life. It is what it is. She said that’s a very detached attitude. So be it I suppose. I find that I do say ‘it is what it is’ quite a bit. But I can’t help it, it is. If there was a way to change it, believe me I would be doing it.

She also said I was very closed off, and hiding behind an ‘everything is ok’ mindset. Again entirely possible. I’m not discrediting her and what she saw in me. I’m just thinking that perhaps for right now, its working and I’m going to run with it.

The one thing she said to me that I really was miffed about was during a moment when we were talking about how I felt the tragicness of everything would never lessen. She disagreed. She felt that in time life wouldn’t feel as tragic; and I wouldn’t feel as cheated. I explained that I felt that from here on out there wouldn’t be a day that passed where something would happen that I wouldn’t immediately want to run to tell you about; and that very fact alone was tragic.

So we parted ways. Probably for the best. She wished me all the luck, and I her. She said I was a bright young lady and hoped good things came my way. And that was that. It was what it was.

So here I am – 100 posts later. Detached, a bit. Ridiculous, perhaps. But eagerly anticipating SantaCon on Saturday and Meredith’s arrival tomorrow.

Love you forever, miss you much

Rachel

Ridiculous – as an adjective: causing or worthy of ridicule or derision; absurd; preposterous; laughable.

Some synonyms - nonsensical, ludicrous, funny, droll, comical, farcical.

We could not talk or talk forever

Hi –

I went and saw Dr. Lee again yesterday. It was actually a good session I thought, at least for the first 30 minutes or so. The conversation was flowing nicely and moving along, we were talking and discussing and it was a definite give and take. Then of course I was done. I didn’t really have anything else to share so the last 15 minutes or so we just stared at each other making a comment here and there.

She brought up the detached thing again, which I’m sure she is right about. I probably am super detached. I find myself in complete disbelief of the situation. It’s not that I don’t believe it, because I do. I understand that this is the truth about my life, but it just doesn’t make any sense. I’m not in denial about it; I’m just in disbelief.

We also talked about how I don’t like to talk about my feelings, or my thoughts, or how I’m dealing. How my whole process is not talking. I’m not not talking, in an effort of full avoidance, but I don’t see how talking helps. This is something that will never change. This isn’t something that a conversation and a hug will fix. This isn’t something to be fixed. This is it. This is my new truth, forever.

This is also something that I don’t want to share with other people because it’s the worst thing that has ever happened to me, and by far the most painful. I don’t want those around me to ever feel that pain, my caretaker gene didn’t magically turn off because of what happened. I don’t see how sitting down with a friend and talking about this, sharing some tears, a hug, maybe a drink will make me feel better. This isn’t something that a good cry will change. This isn’t something that after a good conversation and some uplifting words I will feel better about. This just is.

The only talking I like is not about anything specific. Just regular old normal conversations. I also like being around people who miss you just as much as me. There’s a silent understanding that happens. I can’t explain it, and I can’t duplicate it. But being near people whose heart is just as heavy as mine helps.

Here on this blog, writing to you helps. For right now, for me, that’s enough.

Love you forever, miss you always.

Rachel