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My grief comes in waves. I can be fine for a while, and then something sets it off.
I got hit by a big one tonight. Worse than I've felt in at least a week. I don't even know what started it this time. I think I was telling one of the cats that she just had to deal with me for a while. Next thing I knew, I was bawling.
And here's the thing: The whole "five stages thing" -- denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance -- it doesn't work like that. I don't have any clear emotions or stages going on here. It's all a big maelstrom, all swirled together.
And nobody ever mentions the guilt.
What hurts me the most is the absolute certainty that everything could have been different, if only I'd acted sooner. Insisted that she just get to a follow-up appointments sooner, even if it meant going to a cardiologist when she didn't think she needed one.
So, yeah. I blame myself. She didn't deserve this. She started last year in a positive direction, her diabetes and blood pressure under control, her weight coming under control, her energy level rising. She didn't deserve a slow deterioration of health, only to spend the last few months of her life in and out of the hospital. To die away from home.
I failed her. She deserved better.
Is this depression? Anger? It can't be denial, because I sure as hell know what happened. I was in the goddamn room. There's no one for me to bargain with, unless I go off the rails and start believing that Doctor Who is real. What can I do but accept what is? Yet, how on Earth can I accept a future without my center?
If there's any one word that comes close to describing how I feel, it's "lost."
I know I'm not tired. I have a bad habit if saying to myself, "I'm tired." It's from years of being actually tired, but also I'd say it when I was just unhappy. I catch myself saying "I'm tired" now, and I know better. I'm not tired. I wasn't tired nearly as often as I told myself I was. I'm just very, very unhappy, and don't know what to do about it.
That was me tonight.
Next wave, who knows? I might start tearing up at happy memories. I might get stuck searching old chat logs. I might go on a cleaning frenzy, trying to get rid of things that have no use but to bring on more waves.
Or I might successfully distract myself for another couple of weeks.
The kids have been so good to me. Much better than I deserve. Robin raised them very well. They're my purpose now, and I've no intention of doing anything stupid that would cause them more grief. I may not be as strong as I thought I was, but I will be stronger than that. That's not what any of this is about.
When I do figure out what it's about, I'll write about that.
I got hit by a big one tonight. Worse than I've felt in at least a week. I don't even know what started it this time. I think I was telling one of the cats that she just had to deal with me for a while. Next thing I knew, I was bawling.
And here's the thing: The whole "five stages thing" -- denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance -- it doesn't work like that. I don't have any clear emotions or stages going on here. It's all a big maelstrom, all swirled together.
And nobody ever mentions the guilt.
What hurts me the most is the absolute certainty that everything could have been different, if only I'd acted sooner. Insisted that she just get to a follow-up appointments sooner, even if it meant going to a cardiologist when she didn't think she needed one.
So, yeah. I blame myself. She didn't deserve this. She started last year in a positive direction, her diabetes and blood pressure under control, her weight coming under control, her energy level rising. She didn't deserve a slow deterioration of health, only to spend the last few months of her life in and out of the hospital. To die away from home.
I failed her. She deserved better.
Is this depression? Anger? It can't be denial, because I sure as hell know what happened. I was in the goddamn room. There's no one for me to bargain with, unless I go off the rails and start believing that Doctor Who is real. What can I do but accept what is? Yet, how on Earth can I accept a future without my center?
If there's any one word that comes close to describing how I feel, it's "lost."
I know I'm not tired. I have a bad habit if saying to myself, "I'm tired." It's from years of being actually tired, but also I'd say it when I was just unhappy. I catch myself saying "I'm tired" now, and I know better. I'm not tired. I wasn't tired nearly as often as I told myself I was. I'm just very, very unhappy, and don't know what to do about it.
That was me tonight.
Next wave, who knows? I might start tearing up at happy memories. I might get stuck searching old chat logs. I might go on a cleaning frenzy, trying to get rid of things that have no use but to bring on more waves.
Or I might successfully distract myself for another couple of weeks.
The kids have been so good to me. Much better than I deserve. Robin raised them very well. They're my purpose now, and I've no intention of doing anything stupid that would cause them more grief. I may not be as strong as I thought I was, but I will be stronger than that. That's not what any of this is about.
When I do figure out what it's about, I'll write about that.
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