July 7, 2009
There is a lot I want to say today, but the events that are spurring my thoughts do not belong to me, and so I don't feel I should say any more out of respect. Suffice it to say, my heart is aching and is full of love for a friend who is going through the fires of hell right now.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Monday, July 6, 2009
The Dream Police
July 6, 2009
I've been alone a little too long today. I think it's making me a lee-tle bit goofy. I have all these conversations with you, the reader, in my mind during the day. Every day really. I think to myself, "Oh I want to write about that," or "What would they think if I wrote about that?" It's a strange thing, this blogging world. It's strange to know there are people out there who know really personal things about my life but don't really know me. It's strange, but that's okay with me. The honesty part of this blog has helped me more than I could explain. It's helped me be real with myself about what I'm feeling and thinking. It's helped me be a more authentic person. It's given me purpose in hoping to at least have touched one life, to have comforted at least one person, to have helped one person not feel alone. And it's taught me something else too; we can only touch each other's lives if we are real and honest about what we're going through. That's been a huge lesson for me.
Anyway . . . so today I was worrying about what the indefinable you thinks of me. Yep. I was worried. I worry about that from time to time. I let the ugly side of me show in this blog; the dark thoughts, the jealousy, the self-centered, self-pitying parts. I let them all hang out there in the name of honesty and growth. But I'm still incredibly insecure. I still just want to be liked by people like everyone else. (Did I mention I let the insecure part hang out there too?) Today was one of those days that I started questioning if this blog is still serving a purpose. Or maybe it's just that the purpose shifts from time to time for me and when it does I'm aware that it's happening. I don't know . . . like I said, it's been a long day of me and Django at home together.
Speaking of which, I was getting a little tired of being inside my own head. So what did I do? I watched the movie What Dreams May Come. If you've seen the movie, I know what you're thinking, this chic is sadistic, right? But it wasn't like that. Lately I've been drawn to movies that express things that I can relate to (somewhat any way). I could relate to the depression of the wife in this one, and to the relationship between the husband and wife. Other movies that are incredibly intense but that I seem to relate to parts of right now are In America, Fearless, Frida, and What Dreams May Come. Okay, so back to my story.
I watched the movie and then Django had to go outside and I realized I had been in the house pretty much all day, except for getting the mail and stepping outside to let him out a few times. I was feeling a little ho-hum and knew that I needed a little boost. It was way to hot to go outside and exercise, besides, I wanted to do something fun. So what did I do? I decided to dance. What the heck? My curtains were pulled closed. No one could see me. Why not? I knew it would put me in a good mood. I can't believe I'm even writing about this. I feel like such a geek. But maybe you need a good laugh today, so here's the scene:
The closest CD I could see was Cheap Trick. Okay. I could do Cheap Trick. I could rock out to that. So I put it in and the first song was Surrender. Right on. I'm not even going to try to describe myself dancing, alone in my living room. I'll let your imagination have fun with that one, but be sure the words awkward and silly are somewhere in there, okay? Django was laying on the floor, only his eyes following me as I hurdled over him to the beat. He wasn't amused. But I needed a partner, so I went to his treat jar and pulled out a treat. Bribery always works. In no time at all I had a four-legged friend dancing around the room with me, following my every move. It was hilarious. But then I think Django got a little carried away and took The Dream Police a little too seriously (him being the police, me being the robber), and he started chasing me a little too energetically. But it made me laugh, so it was all good.
I'm not even sure why I wrote about that. To make you laugh maybe? I don't know. It'll be good to get back to work tomorrow. (Don't quote me on that though.)
I've been alone a little too long today. I think it's making me a lee-tle bit goofy. I have all these conversations with you, the reader, in my mind during the day. Every day really. I think to myself, "Oh I want to write about that," or "What would they think if I wrote about that?" It's a strange thing, this blogging world. It's strange to know there are people out there who know really personal things about my life but don't really know me. It's strange, but that's okay with me. The honesty part of this blog has helped me more than I could explain. It's helped me be real with myself about what I'm feeling and thinking. It's helped me be a more authentic person. It's given me purpose in hoping to at least have touched one life, to have comforted at least one person, to have helped one person not feel alone. And it's taught me something else too; we can only touch each other's lives if we are real and honest about what we're going through. That's been a huge lesson for me.
Anyway . . . so today I was worrying about what the indefinable you thinks of me. Yep. I was worried. I worry about that from time to time. I let the ugly side of me show in this blog; the dark thoughts, the jealousy, the self-centered, self-pitying parts. I let them all hang out there in the name of honesty and growth. But I'm still incredibly insecure. I still just want to be liked by people like everyone else. (Did I mention I let the insecure part hang out there too?) Today was one of those days that I started questioning if this blog is still serving a purpose. Or maybe it's just that the purpose shifts from time to time for me and when it does I'm aware that it's happening. I don't know . . . like I said, it's been a long day of me and Django at home together.
Speaking of which, I was getting a little tired of being inside my own head. So what did I do? I watched the movie What Dreams May Come. If you've seen the movie, I know what you're thinking, this chic is sadistic, right? But it wasn't like that. Lately I've been drawn to movies that express things that I can relate to (somewhat any way). I could relate to the depression of the wife in this one, and to the relationship between the husband and wife. Other movies that are incredibly intense but that I seem to relate to parts of right now are In America, Fearless, Frida, and What Dreams May Come. Okay, so back to my story.
I watched the movie and then Django had to go outside and I realized I had been in the house pretty much all day, except for getting the mail and stepping outside to let him out a few times. I was feeling a little ho-hum and knew that I needed a little boost. It was way to hot to go outside and exercise, besides, I wanted to do something fun. So what did I do? I decided to dance. What the heck? My curtains were pulled closed. No one could see me. Why not? I knew it would put me in a good mood. I can't believe I'm even writing about this. I feel like such a geek. But maybe you need a good laugh today, so here's the scene:
The closest CD I could see was Cheap Trick. Okay. I could do Cheap Trick. I could rock out to that. So I put it in and the first song was Surrender. Right on. I'm not even going to try to describe myself dancing, alone in my living room. I'll let your imagination have fun with that one, but be sure the words awkward and silly are somewhere in there, okay? Django was laying on the floor, only his eyes following me as I hurdled over him to the beat. He wasn't amused. But I needed a partner, so I went to his treat jar and pulled out a treat. Bribery always works. In no time at all I had a four-legged friend dancing around the room with me, following my every move. It was hilarious. But then I think Django got a little carried away and took The Dream Police a little too seriously (him being the police, me being the robber), and he started chasing me a little too energetically. But it made me laugh, so it was all good.
I'm not even sure why I wrote about that. To make you laugh maybe? I don't know. It'll be good to get back to work tomorrow. (Don't quote me on that though.)
Sunday, July 5, 2009
The moments that slip in
July 5, 2009
It started Friday at lunch. I'm sure it did. I relayed bits and pieces of Harper's loss to a friend I hadn't seen in a few years. "I gave birth to her." "She was just under a pound." "I was five months pregnant." On the drive home from lunch I thought, "Well you handled that well Abby. You didn't break down crying. See, you can do this."
Yesterday I got a wonderful video from Jason and Laura of Jonas walking. His chubby little legs wobbling as he pointed himself in one direction and then decided to go another. It was so cute. I laughed out loud watching it, over and over. I love that modern technology lets his aunt who is two thousand miles away be a part of that moment.
Jeremy and I decided to do the night-time Sonoran Desert Museum experience last night. We were tag-teaming use of the shower as we got ready to go out. And all of a sudden it hit me, smack dab in the middle of my chest. I had known intellectually, and had even said it out loud numerous times, but yesterday was the first time it HIT ME. Jonas and Harper were supposed to be only two months apart. I flipped the toilet seat lid down and sat down and started sobbing, face in my hands.
"Did you see his wobbly little legs Jeremy?" I asked through the tears.
"Yeah," he said softly.
"They were only two months apart." More tears. More sobs. "Poor Jonas. His whole life, all of his milestones, Aunt Abby will be sad . . . " I couldn't finish the thought. I laughed through the tears, "And I know she would have been walking already because I walked early!"
"Well I think I was a late bloomer, so she might have balanced out on that one," he laughed through the sorrow too. And that was it. I wanted to move on. That was enough sorrow for today. And we went about getting ready again.
Oh, but I guess I wasn't done, because more sobs came. "It's not fair! We have no daughter. I can't help but wonder if I did something to deserve this," I cried into Jeremy's chest. "I know," he said. He put his arms around me and held me. Am I such a bad person that I didn't deserve my little girl? Am I that bad?
And then I was angry. And I started bargaining with God. "Okay God. I lost my daughter. I can deal with this, but you owe me. You owe me something amazing and wonderful. When's it coming?" And I stopped myself. I realized what I was doing; bargaining with God. Whatever. It doesn't work that way Abby. It's not about DESERVE. It's just not. And you know God didn't make this happen to you. This is grief. You know, that stage that you talk about in parent ed class - bargaining? Look in the mirror dear girl. It's right there in front of you.
And I turned and looked in the mirror and gasped and then laughed. My eyes were puffy and red and my face was blotchy. "Are you going to get sick of seeing me breakdown at every life milestone Harper would have had?" I asked Jeremy, worried once again that our grief processes would come between us.
"No Abby. I do it too. Not in the same ways or the same times as you, but I do it too. And we'll experience this the rest of our lives." Somehow hearing that was comforting to me.
It was just a few moments you know. It wasn't my whole day that was swallowed up by the sadness. I realized as I was thinking about blogging about this that I was feeling a little defensive that I'm still grieving and it's been over a year. But it's not like I'm stuck in the sadness any more. I'm not. My days are good and happy and productive. I'm happy to be alive. There are just these moments that slip in from time to time. Bittersweet moments really, when I think about my daughter.
It started Friday at lunch. I'm sure it did. I relayed bits and pieces of Harper's loss to a friend I hadn't seen in a few years. "I gave birth to her." "She was just under a pound." "I was five months pregnant." On the drive home from lunch I thought, "Well you handled that well Abby. You didn't break down crying. See, you can do this."
Yesterday I got a wonderful video from Jason and Laura of Jonas walking. His chubby little legs wobbling as he pointed himself in one direction and then decided to go another. It was so cute. I laughed out loud watching it, over and over. I love that modern technology lets his aunt who is two thousand miles away be a part of that moment.
Jeremy and I decided to do the night-time Sonoran Desert Museum experience last night. We were tag-teaming use of the shower as we got ready to go out. And all of a sudden it hit me, smack dab in the middle of my chest. I had known intellectually, and had even said it out loud numerous times, but yesterday was the first time it HIT ME. Jonas and Harper were supposed to be only two months apart. I flipped the toilet seat lid down and sat down and started sobbing, face in my hands.
"Did you see his wobbly little legs Jeremy?" I asked through the tears.
"Yeah," he said softly.
"They were only two months apart." More tears. More sobs. "Poor Jonas. His whole life, all of his milestones, Aunt Abby will be sad . . . " I couldn't finish the thought. I laughed through the tears, "And I know she would have been walking already because I walked early!"
"Well I think I was a late bloomer, so she might have balanced out on that one," he laughed through the sorrow too. And that was it. I wanted to move on. That was enough sorrow for today. And we went about getting ready again.
Oh, but I guess I wasn't done, because more sobs came. "It's not fair! We have no daughter. I can't help but wonder if I did something to deserve this," I cried into Jeremy's chest. "I know," he said. He put his arms around me and held me. Am I such a bad person that I didn't deserve my little girl? Am I that bad?
And then I was angry. And I started bargaining with God. "Okay God. I lost my daughter. I can deal with this, but you owe me. You owe me something amazing and wonderful. When's it coming?" And I stopped myself. I realized what I was doing; bargaining with God. Whatever. It doesn't work that way Abby. It's not about DESERVE. It's just not. And you know God didn't make this happen to you. This is grief. You know, that stage that you talk about in parent ed class - bargaining? Look in the mirror dear girl. It's right there in front of you.
And I turned and looked in the mirror and gasped and then laughed. My eyes were puffy and red and my face was blotchy. "Are you going to get sick of seeing me breakdown at every life milestone Harper would have had?" I asked Jeremy, worried once again that our grief processes would come between us.
"No Abby. I do it too. Not in the same ways or the same times as you, but I do it too. And we'll experience this the rest of our lives." Somehow hearing that was comforting to me.
It was just a few moments you know. It wasn't my whole day that was swallowed up by the sadness. I realized as I was thinking about blogging about this that I was feeling a little defensive that I'm still grieving and it's been over a year. But it's not like I'm stuck in the sadness any more. I'm not. My days are good and happy and productive. I'm happy to be alive. There are just these moments that slip in from time to time. Bittersweet moments really, when I think about my daughter.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Flipping the coin
July 2, 2009
Such a weird paradox happening to me these days. I am enjoying, even thriving on my time alone. I love the peace and quiet of it. I love listening to my books on CD as I accomplish those tiny little household tasks that are so easy to skip over but when you do them you feel so proud of yourself. (Like doing the dishes! No, just kidding.) I might stop in the middle of my task to get down on the floor next to Django, laying my face right next to his, leaning over to kiss him by his ear, my favorite spot for the softness and earthy scent. He's not amused so I complain out loud about the fact that he's just not a cuddly dog and then get up and go about my tasks again. I want it, the alone time. I really do.
And then take that coin and flip it up in the air and watch it come down and land on the other side. That blasted other side. I'm lonely. Maybe I'm doing it to myself. I'm sure I am. But it's where I am nonetheless. And as I'm sitting here writing, I've started and erased numerous sentences. All of them want to blame my loneliness on other people for their shortcomings or inability to understand or whatever, but I keep erasing because I know I'm doing it to myself.
It's not that people can't understand. They absolutely can. I know that. I've had many women reach out to me who have had miscarriages and still-births. I've had people with j-pouches and UC reach out to me. I've had people who are sorting through their changing views on faith offer support and encouragement as I define what I believe. I have friends to goof off with. I have friends to have heart to hearts with. So what am I complaining about? Get out of this funk Abby. You're just feeling sorry for yourself! So what? I want to feel sorry for myself. Once in a while I want to soak in the muck. It takes so much work to be positive all the time. Forget that. Indulge in the negativity a little.
Ick. Just letting myself go there grosses me out a bit. I don't even want to be around me when I'm like that! Okay, so here's where the shift needs to happen, right? Haven't I been down this road before? And not so many days ago either, right?
What am I thankful for, today, right now? I'm thankful that my body is functioning as it should. I'm thankful for the job that I have. I'm thankful for the kindness of others, even when I'm not deserving. I'm thankful for iced mochas (there always has to be some gratitude for caffeine). I'm thankful for the sunshine and the rain. I'm thankful that I can learn and grow just by paying attention. I'm thankful for the patience of my friends. I'm thankful for entertainment. I'm thankful for music and musicians, for books and writers, for artists. I'm thankful for ibuprofen.
When will I learn?
Such a weird paradox happening to me these days. I am enjoying, even thriving on my time alone. I love the peace and quiet of it. I love listening to my books on CD as I accomplish those tiny little household tasks that are so easy to skip over but when you do them you feel so proud of yourself. (Like doing the dishes! No, just kidding.) I might stop in the middle of my task to get down on the floor next to Django, laying my face right next to his, leaning over to kiss him by his ear, my favorite spot for the softness and earthy scent. He's not amused so I complain out loud about the fact that he's just not a cuddly dog and then get up and go about my tasks again. I want it, the alone time. I really do.
And then take that coin and flip it up in the air and watch it come down and land on the other side. That blasted other side. I'm lonely. Maybe I'm doing it to myself. I'm sure I am. But it's where I am nonetheless. And as I'm sitting here writing, I've started and erased numerous sentences. All of them want to blame my loneliness on other people for their shortcomings or inability to understand or whatever, but I keep erasing because I know I'm doing it to myself.
It's not that people can't understand. They absolutely can. I know that. I've had many women reach out to me who have had miscarriages and still-births. I've had people with j-pouches and UC reach out to me. I've had people who are sorting through their changing views on faith offer support and encouragement as I define what I believe. I have friends to goof off with. I have friends to have heart to hearts with. So what am I complaining about? Get out of this funk Abby. You're just feeling sorry for yourself! So what? I want to feel sorry for myself. Once in a while I want to soak in the muck. It takes so much work to be positive all the time. Forget that. Indulge in the negativity a little.
Ick. Just letting myself go there grosses me out a bit. I don't even want to be around me when I'm like that! Okay, so here's where the shift needs to happen, right? Haven't I been down this road before? And not so many days ago either, right?
What am I thankful for, today, right now? I'm thankful that my body is functioning as it should. I'm thankful for the job that I have. I'm thankful for the kindness of others, even when I'm not deserving. I'm thankful for iced mochas (there always has to be some gratitude for caffeine). I'm thankful for the sunshine and the rain. I'm thankful that I can learn and grow just by paying attention. I'm thankful for the patience of my friends. I'm thankful for entertainment. I'm thankful for music and musicians, for books and writers, for artists. I'm thankful for ibuprofen.
When will I learn?
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
The green eyed monster
July 1, 2009
It's making me sick, this feeling. Jealousy. That's what it is. Pictures of friends with their children flashing in my mind. Their friendships growing ever deeper, bonding to one another in ways that I am unable to because I'm childless. My loneliness pangs. I want what they have. I'm jealous of it. And so I play out stories in my mind about how it is that they don't deserve what they have. They are elaborate stories too. And then I'm sick again. Aware of what my jealousy is doing to me. It's ugly and I don't want any part of it. I don't want it near me. God please, help me here. I don't know how to get rid of this jealousy.
Do I try to think good things about them? Do I change the stories playing out in my mind? Is that how to get rid of the jealousy? No Abby, don't fool yourself. This isn't about them. It's about you. Yes. It's about me. And then it dawns on me. I'm holding on to this jealousy because it's easier to feel than the sorrow. I'm sick of the sorrow. And I'm scared too. Scared that I will never be able to be around people with children, never be able to walk past a pregnant woman or see the love between a parent and child without feeling sorrow. And trust me, these are not images you can escape if you have any desire to be a part of the real world.
And I realize that what I need to do is cry. And I do. And crying releases the feelings. It brings authenticity back to me. The jealousy dissolves. I'm at peace again.
It's making me sick, this feeling. Jealousy. That's what it is. Pictures of friends with their children flashing in my mind. Their friendships growing ever deeper, bonding to one another in ways that I am unable to because I'm childless. My loneliness pangs. I want what they have. I'm jealous of it. And so I play out stories in my mind about how it is that they don't deserve what they have. They are elaborate stories too. And then I'm sick again. Aware of what my jealousy is doing to me. It's ugly and I don't want any part of it. I don't want it near me. God please, help me here. I don't know how to get rid of this jealousy.
Do I try to think good things about them? Do I change the stories playing out in my mind? Is that how to get rid of the jealousy? No Abby, don't fool yourself. This isn't about them. It's about you. Yes. It's about me. And then it dawns on me. I'm holding on to this jealousy because it's easier to feel than the sorrow. I'm sick of the sorrow. And I'm scared too. Scared that I will never be able to be around people with children, never be able to walk past a pregnant woman or see the love between a parent and child without feeling sorrow. And trust me, these are not images you can escape if you have any desire to be a part of the real world.
And I realize that what I need to do is cry. And I do. And crying releases the feelings. It brings authenticity back to me. The jealousy dissolves. I'm at peace again.
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