I don't really know where to begin with this one. Let's start by saying that I feel like I've lost my mind. I will follow that up with anecdotal evidence ;) I took Daniel to Target this morning (one of about ten errands we had to run). He didn't push the door close button on his side door, so I pushed it on the remote and then locked the van. I didn't bother to watch the door close because I heard the beeps signaling that it was closing. We shopped for about thirty minutes. As we stepped out of the store, I noticed that there was a van (identical to mine) with both side doors open! It took all of half a second to realize that it was MY van. Without paying attention, I had opened the other side door instead of closing the already open one. The car was locked, but it was wide open...this too shall pass, right? At some point this freakish absent-mindedness has to ebb.
I have dreaded this week. Everyone went back to work. I miss having Will around to keep me laughing. I also miss being able to run errands with Kim throughout the day. It's easier to smile through discomfort when you're standing beside someone who really understands. Baby steps...I'm working on baby steps here.
I don't feel like I've made much progress when it comes to grieving. I mean, I guess I could be, but sometimes progress in grief feels like moving backward. The current feeling is something akin to being weaned off of anesthesia after a surgery. You're fuzzy-headed, you can't really communicate, but you know that whatever they have given you for pain management is NOT doing it's job.
I doubt that any of this is unique to me. It's the worst right after my kids go to bed. All day, I (we) push through to keep things semi-normal for the kids, and once they go to bed everything rushes at me (us) at warp speed (a nerdy reference, but you get the gist). I feel bad for Will. When the kids are tucked in bed, he is left with weepy Catherine who can't stop thinking about the fact that her Papa is gone. I'm definitely making an effort to be normal-ish, but it can't be easy for him to deal with.
In a strange twist, I'm starting to feel like a social cripple. I know that with time, this ought to improve, but for the time being I am avoiding large groups of people who know me. Is that strange? It is difficult to deal with the questions and condolences. It's not that I don't want to talk about it at all. I talk to my family and close friends about it a lot. This blog is also a healthy outlet for me right now. But, the idea of sitting with a small or large group of people who I'm not 100% comfortable with and talking about it sends me into mini panic attacks.
I have dreaded this week. Everyone went back to work. I miss having Will around to keep me laughing. I also miss being able to run errands with Kim throughout the day. It's easier to smile through discomfort when you're standing beside someone who really understands. Baby steps...I'm working on baby steps here.
I don't feel like I've made much progress when it comes to grieving. I mean, I guess I could be, but sometimes progress in grief feels like moving backward. The current feeling is something akin to being weaned off of anesthesia after a surgery. You're fuzzy-headed, you can't really communicate, but you know that whatever they have given you for pain management is NOT doing it's job.
I doubt that any of this is unique to me. It's the worst right after my kids go to bed. All day, I (we) push through to keep things semi-normal for the kids, and once they go to bed everything rushes at me (us) at warp speed (a nerdy reference, but you get the gist). I feel bad for Will. When the kids are tucked in bed, he is left with weepy Catherine who can't stop thinking about the fact that her Papa is gone. I'm definitely making an effort to be normal-ish, but it can't be easy for him to deal with.
In a strange twist, I'm starting to feel like a social cripple. I know that with time, this ought to improve, but for the time being I am avoiding large groups of people who know me. Is that strange? It is difficult to deal with the questions and condolences. It's not that I don't want to talk about it at all. I talk to my family and close friends about it a lot. This blog is also a healthy outlet for me right now. But, the idea of sitting with a small or large group of people who I'm not 100% comfortable with and talking about it sends me into mini panic attacks.
I feel the same way. I'm good in small groups of close friends, but lots of people with hand patting and sympathy I want to run away! Time does heal, but it takes it's own sweet time!! You all are on my mind and in my heart & prayers. I know where you are right now, I lost my Dad suddenly to medical error at 55, they are your first rock..Just hold on and keep your eyes focused on God. Love you all!
ReplyDeleteCatherine...I continue to think of you and pray. I know we are not close...I know we really barely know each other except from past experiences that really have all but faded, I know my offer to connect for coffee (in my card) may not be a possibility or even comfortable for you this go round (over the holidays), but just know I care and am thinking about you and your family. It is TOTALLY okay to be where you are at, and you are not obligated to be any different for anyone. So thankful for you that you have a wonderful husband and sweet kiddos. Thanks for sharing your heart here - will continue to pray He lights the way of your grieving heart.
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