so a lot of what i've been sitting with around this being sick and not feeling able to take care of myself or my kid, coupled with feeling like i was gonna die, you know it all goes back to that abandonment depression thing, of course, doesn't everything? yes.
but i am -- between panic and sadness and confusion -- at least this time aware intermittently of what the feeling feels like (that is when it doesn't feel like my imagined seconds before death)...
...clarified for me as I called a couple friends who were not there or busy -- to find someone to just help me (do what i don't know, make sure i didn't die and take care of jenna for me with george dragging his sick self through 5 performances....)
someone to promise me it would be ok who i could believe, and aside from the UNRELENTING pull of wanting my mother and knowing that wasn't going to happen, not because she isn't "there" but because i can't let her be "here" right in here, and how will it be for me when i'm old, and all of that...
and what if and what when and what if and what when...
...that bright, shining serrated edge that kept glistening was a single word: helpless.
helplessnesssss.
then what am i doing: knowing i would wreck the world to make it ok for my kid.... to give her the tools to not feel this way -- i don't feel like i have them. not today. even after ALL of this LONG process, i still hit that space -- whether it's live or memorex -- that's precisely helpless,,,,,,,,,,
no one, no where: help me?
never we never forget the way there; the trips are less frequent but the gps is always on....
where does the world go in that racing paralysis: the memory of before and hope of what's next dissolving.
.... how do i ever know it's ever going to ever end ever?
...that and then the whiplash: jenna coming out of anesthesia and her moaning - 'are they gone? is it over? is it done? are my tonsils gone?' and tears down her cheeks when i say yes honey, they're gone it's ok its all done,' and sleeping and waking and asking with the same mix of emotions, mommy, daddy, are they gone, is it over i don't get it?
...I don't know how to process it.
echoes come in layers, and I'm coming out of anesthesia when i almost bled to death and all of that mess is
IN MY FACE
and then all of my father's dying and death and sickness is like coming home. ......to the cool white cotton sheets -- she took such good care of me
i still don't get ANY of it or how to make it better for me or my husband or my child or my family, or how to make it stop or how to make it start, and i already know i can't, and that's where this show began.
i guess i'm back.
Tags: grieving, PTSD, children, tonsillitis, adenoidectomy, sinus surgery, blogging, not blogging = Powered by Qumana
