So it's Thanksgiving. It doesn't feel like Thanksgiving. It feels like just another weekend. It seems like we just had Thanksgiving, it's too soon to be here again. But it is.
I think my mind is trying to trick me. Tomorrow is the hard day. The day I made the decision that he needed to get to a hospital right away. He was too sick. Tomorrow is also my mom's birthday. So a day of cheer and a day of dread.
I'm so thankful that she understands how hard life is for me right now. It's hard for them too. Scott is normally a part of this day and her birthday. He's missing in their lives too, not just mine. We all miss him, that's for sure. I was wondering today if Jasper ever wonders where he is...
I will say that I tried two bites of mashed potatoes today. I made myself do it, although I didn't want to. My sister said she made a similar batch to my grandma's so I had to taste and judge for myself. They were close...but NOT QUITE there. haha. Sorry K. Love you :) Next year, we are going to have a mashed potato "smash off." My grandmother makes the best ones ever and we always try to replicate them...
I also started taking an antidepressant today. I was very against this idea, but I know I need it for a short period of time. Today wasn't a great day to start a new drug because the side effects caused me stomach issues and a loss of appetite...but my emotions have also been causing this, so hard to tell what caused what. Oh well. I'll give it time to see if it helps me function a bit better. I know I need something. Not forever, but for a while.
My psychiatrist said that maybe I was too strong during the months leading up until now and here's my time to break. It's common. It's natural. It's grief. I sort of had a delayed reaction emotionally. I hope he's right. I just want to get through it in one piece. Thank you so much to all of you for support and love. I need it. I just need to get better at accepting it and asking for it. One step and day at a time.
Showing posts with label grief. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grief. Show all posts
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
turmoil
Everyday I wake up, I'm shaken and scared again. Is this really happening? One year ago, I had no idea how much my life would change in one night.
Thanksgiving will stir a lot of emotion for me and my family. I rented a car last year because Scott was too sick to drive his car (stick shift requiring a lot of work in rush hour traffic). I remember walking behind him at all times to ensure he didn't fall over or get too light-headed. I forget where we stopped to eat on the way to MI. I hate that I forget details. I want to cherish them all so badly. On Thanksgiving, my mom, sister and I cooked. We ate later than usual. I remember Scott eating a little turkey with gravy and a lot of mashed potatoes. It was 8 or 8:30 and I needed to drive Chaz home. Scott wanted to come but he was starting to feel sick. On the way to take Chaz home and on the way back all I could think was "please don't get sick, please don't get sick." I immediately rushed to the bedroom to where he was laying down and of course, he had gotten sick. This was my life. I was devastated. I knew that whatever was happening to him over the past couple of months hadn't gotten better. I needed to take serious action.
I was on the phone with UofM's ER, both medical and psychiatric divisions, trying to understand what course of action I needed to take. I had had it. I wanted him well and isn't UofM one of the best hospitals? With the help of my family, they encouraged me that this was the right thing. I told Scott that I was taking him the next morning to UofM and he wasn't happy. He blamed the mashed potatoes for making him sick. We fought. I hate that we fought but said we'll see how he feels in the morning. He was so sick, all night and on the way to the hospital, clearly he wasn't getting better. It wasn't the damn mashed potatoes. He insisted everytime he ate them, he got sick. I still haven't eaten mashed potatoes, nor do I think I ever will.
I always think I should've fucking fought harder for him at the hospital. We should've known his heart was bad. Why did they miss that? Because he was only 36. Fuck 36, you can still have heart disease. A good doctor would know better, considering we were on the cardiac floor (constantly hooked up to a heart rate monitor) and he complained of some chest pain, had tachycardia (fast heart rate) and was diabetic. Like do a fucking stress test. Damn. What a mess. I get so mad thinking about it now.
It's hard to think about "what I'm thankful for" when I'm so sad. I'm thankful for those who have supported me throughout all of this. I won't name names, you know who you are. But I can't help being really mad at the same time. Mad that this is my life. Mad that I have to wake up and keep moving, just to survive. Mad that I have to live with a huge hole in my heart and cannot function the way I once did. That's grief. You cannot accomplish what you were once able to when it hurts this bad. Will the day come where I can, yes, but I'm not there.
I'm not ready for a lot of things thanks to this thing called turmoil.
Thanksgiving will stir a lot of emotion for me and my family. I rented a car last year because Scott was too sick to drive his car (stick shift requiring a lot of work in rush hour traffic). I remember walking behind him at all times to ensure he didn't fall over or get too light-headed. I forget where we stopped to eat on the way to MI. I hate that I forget details. I want to cherish them all so badly. On Thanksgiving, my mom, sister and I cooked. We ate later than usual. I remember Scott eating a little turkey with gravy and a lot of mashed potatoes. It was 8 or 8:30 and I needed to drive Chaz home. Scott wanted to come but he was starting to feel sick. On the way to take Chaz home and on the way back all I could think was "please don't get sick, please don't get sick." I immediately rushed to the bedroom to where he was laying down and of course, he had gotten sick. This was my life. I was devastated. I knew that whatever was happening to him over the past couple of months hadn't gotten better. I needed to take serious action.
I was on the phone with UofM's ER, both medical and psychiatric divisions, trying to understand what course of action I needed to take. I had had it. I wanted him well and isn't UofM one of the best hospitals? With the help of my family, they encouraged me that this was the right thing. I told Scott that I was taking him the next morning to UofM and he wasn't happy. He blamed the mashed potatoes for making him sick. We fought. I hate that we fought but said we'll see how he feels in the morning. He was so sick, all night and on the way to the hospital, clearly he wasn't getting better. It wasn't the damn mashed potatoes. He insisted everytime he ate them, he got sick. I still haven't eaten mashed potatoes, nor do I think I ever will.
I always think I should've fucking fought harder for him at the hospital. We should've known his heart was bad. Why did they miss that? Because he was only 36. Fuck 36, you can still have heart disease. A good doctor would know better, considering we were on the cardiac floor (constantly hooked up to a heart rate monitor) and he complained of some chest pain, had tachycardia (fast heart rate) and was diabetic. Like do a fucking stress test. Damn. What a mess. I get so mad thinking about it now.
It's hard to think about "what I'm thankful for" when I'm so sad. I'm thankful for those who have supported me throughout all of this. I won't name names, you know who you are. But I can't help being really mad at the same time. Mad that this is my life. Mad that I have to wake up and keep moving, just to survive. Mad that I have to live with a huge hole in my heart and cannot function the way I once did. That's grief. You cannot accomplish what you were once able to when it hurts this bad. Will the day come where I can, yes, but I'm not there.
I'm not ready for a lot of things thanks to this thing called turmoil.
Friday, September 30, 2011
missing him
I've been in an intense emotional roller coaster since 9/11. Hence the hiatus from my blog. Sometimes the feelings are too personal and private to share.
I know the dates that are approaching are looming over my head. Whether I am thinking of them or not, they are coming. I cannot fast forward time, or I would've done that already. I have to face what is in front of me. I feel like I'm hurting people close to me because I'm pulling away, but this is how I know how to react to emotional pain. I want to be alone. I want to hide the pain so that no one can see how deeply it hurts. I don't reach out. I don't want to let on the pain I feel everyday. The loneliness. The incredible pain associated with missing Scott. And wondering how this is all really happening.
While I know this is my life, I sometimes cannot believe it's real. He's really gone. We are really not getting married. I will never wear that perfect dress I picked out for our day. He will never see me walk down the aisle. I wanted it all so badly. He was my best friend. He was my world. I hate knowing I can never confide in him again.
I am in this "phase" of my grief process where I am trying to hold on tight to whatever I have of Scott. It's all that seems normal as we near what would have been our wedding date (11/5/11). And all the dates thereafter. Thanksgiving. Hospital. Getting out. Christmas. Coming back to Chicago. Doctor appointments. Going back to work (me). Death. We weren't back two weeks and he was gone. GONE. I remember it so vividly. It used to feel so long ago, but now it feels like yesterday. That's how bad the pain is again.
I often hate blogging because when I write, I'm in pain. The pain is still there. When will it end? Will it ever end? Is there ever a day when I will get past this? I know the answer is yes, but some days it seems so far away. My life cannot be normal until I can let go of him. I cannot do that yet. I oftentimes try to pack up more of his stuff that I have and I simply can't. I don't want to erase him and I feel that by getting rid of some of the stupid things I have, will mean he's gone. I'm not there yet. I cannot say goodbye.
Sometimes I don't know if it's me that doesn't know how to ask for what I need or if grief doesn't allow you to know. I never truly know what I need. All I know is that I have to feel the pain, as awful as it is.
I know the dates that are approaching are looming over my head. Whether I am thinking of them or not, they are coming. I cannot fast forward time, or I would've done that already. I have to face what is in front of me. I feel like I'm hurting people close to me because I'm pulling away, but this is how I know how to react to emotional pain. I want to be alone. I want to hide the pain so that no one can see how deeply it hurts. I don't reach out. I don't want to let on the pain I feel everyday. The loneliness. The incredible pain associated with missing Scott. And wondering how this is all really happening.
While I know this is my life, I sometimes cannot believe it's real. He's really gone. We are really not getting married. I will never wear that perfect dress I picked out for our day. He will never see me walk down the aisle. I wanted it all so badly. He was my best friend. He was my world. I hate knowing I can never confide in him again.
I am in this "phase" of my grief process where I am trying to hold on tight to whatever I have of Scott. It's all that seems normal as we near what would have been our wedding date (11/5/11). And all the dates thereafter. Thanksgiving. Hospital. Getting out. Christmas. Coming back to Chicago. Doctor appointments. Going back to work (me). Death. We weren't back two weeks and he was gone. GONE. I remember it so vividly. It used to feel so long ago, but now it feels like yesterday. That's how bad the pain is again.
I often hate blogging because when I write, I'm in pain. The pain is still there. When will it end? Will it ever end? Is there ever a day when I will get past this? I know the answer is yes, but some days it seems so far away. My life cannot be normal until I can let go of him. I cannot do that yet. I oftentimes try to pack up more of his stuff that I have and I simply can't. I don't want to erase him and I feel that by getting rid of some of the stupid things I have, will mean he's gone. I'm not there yet. I cannot say goodbye.
Sometimes I don't know if it's me that doesn't know how to ask for what I need or if grief doesn't allow you to know. I never truly know what I need. All I know is that I have to feel the pain, as awful as it is.
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