They Won't Come

I want to cry.  I want to cry this afternoon more than I've ever wanted a piece of chocolate.  I can feel inside me that I need to.  But, the tears won't come.  I now realize what I hadn't thought of before Monica passed away.  Getting through the grief  of losing her won't be like anyone else I know.  I won't be able to just compare and console and understand in a way that is ideal and healthy.  It will take me much, much longer.  And cognitively I will stay in a fog for more extended periods of time.

One component of my illness is depression, which makes perfect sense considering pain is ever present.  I am on an effective regimen of anti-depressants (I take a cocktail of 3 kinds every morning)  and would not consider going off them for any reason.  Not only will I not do it, my entire team of doctors would not allow it, I'm certain.  And those medicines are the reason I can't cry for her today.  I want to.  I miss her.  Anti-depressants effectively shorten the range of emotion available to us.  I no longer can feel my lowest low feelings.  Also, I can no longer feel my highest joys.  My range is maybe a 6 to a 14 instead of  a 0 to 20, if numerals help you.  I accept that because I must.  I am at peace with it only because I acutely understand the alternative provides zero quality of life.

I have been trying to make myself cry for about an hour now.  And I don't want to just get on you-tube and find some random video that is tear-jerking and use that as my way out of this.  I want and need to grieve the loss of my baby sister.  And, damn it, I can't cry.  Not today, anyway.  I want to pass through this grieving period in a reasonable time, and at a reasonable pace, naturally in my own way, but not delayed because of stupid chemicals that won't let me cry.  I am sort of abandoned on the grief highway and left there, not able to go in either direction.  I can't come out of it because well, there's deep sadness left for me to feel and process.  And I can't dive in to the deep sadness because my medicines won't allow it chemically.  I'm on the grief Exit ramp.  And I can't get there.

Maybe one day this week, I'll accomplish progress on this front.  I hope so.

I'm so grateful for the anti-depressants and their function of stabilizing my mood and masking some of the physical pain, that they are affordable and that I have found some that work for me without horrendous side-effects.

Here's to happy days.  Hoping y'all have them.

Grieving wishes

The thing about grief is that it sneaks up on you when you think you've finished with it.  Sort of like dust on furniture.  You can dust thoroughly and carefully, not missing any areas.  You can stand back and admire your work and feel the accomplishment.  And, at that very moment, the accumulation of dust begins to gather again.  This is how I live with grief.  It is ever present for me.  Today, my grief is for myself, not even about my latest huge loss, my Monica.  I simply went to one low-key social setting, and back home today but, for some reason, I found myself wishing that realities were different.  I kept thinking, I wish I could drive.  I never would have taken that corner so quickly and my body wouldn't have pressed so hard against the door.  I wish I could be the one to decide when to pull out in front of another car, using and trusting my own judgment.  I wish I could leave the outing when I wanted to, not when my loved one fetched me.  I wish I didn't have these wishes, but I do.

I wish I could do a different kind of exercise.  I am left with only "safe" options because my body cannot be relied upon to remain strong through any one event.  I wish I had somebody who would try another exercise with me, to just see if I could do it, thereby removing any danger for me and being there if I should need help.  I wish I could sign up for trampoline fitness classes.  They are offered and available just a few miles from my house and it sounds like GREAT fun, but, again, I'm being discouraged by my husband because it could be something which sends me into flare.   (I'm going to still go one day this week and try it for a while.  I will never know how hard or soft the bouncing is unless I give it a go, so I'm going to.)  I wish I weren't so desperate to find a fun, a truly fun activity to do.  I wish I could do exercises which I really feel building my strength and endurance.

I wish I could tolerate being outside in the sunshine for even a half hour each day.  Or, for even 10 minutes.  I wish I could walk the dog without having to get up at 6 am to do that, because of heat intolerance.  I wish I could leave for a dog walk with complete confidence that I will be able to make it home on my legs.

I wish I did not wish for things I don't have.

I wish I had independence and I could go see any movie I wanted at the theater.  I wish I could decide to go get a haircut and then DO that.  I wish I could FEEL progress in my life.  Any progress.  I wish I had enough financial input in my household to warrant my giving more generously to others.  I wish I could take handmade crocheted items I make to the people I make them for, and not have to put them through the mail or rely on someone else to ferry them there for me.  I wish I could see the expression on even one face of someone enjoying what I crafted.

I wish I could dust all these wishes away and feel just gratified with what I have, but, somehow, my season has turned again and I'm back at wishing.  I really, really wish I didn't feel this way this evening.

At this point, my therapist would say, "How does it feel to wish for so much and not have it, to wish for perfectly logical and realistic things and  have no expectation of getting them?  What is that like?"  Here is my answer.  "It feels ever so sad."  Also, "It feels heart-wrenching" is accurate.  Further, "It feels like I can't smile and like I can't think straight because of the grief."

I suppose right now, I am dealing with a deep loss at my core, my dear sister, the deepest loss I've ever suffered behind the loss of my own health and my personal identity.  And to have just the dust of my daily life settling on that void is really throwing me for a loop today.  I can't find a balance.  I have, unfortunately, found a hole.  I'm not in it yet, and I hope not to go down it, but, I do see it and I also feel its pull on me.  I wish that so, so, so much were different about how I am spending my precious time here in this world, in this body.  I really do.  And it makes me sad.  To not be sad about it would be dishonest, I think.  It would be denial, and untrue.

I wish I could feel and function normally again.  I'm even now through tears, thinking of what I could possibly offer to God as my bargaining chip.  Of course, I have no chips to play my hand with.  After all, He dealt my hand to me so, he knows I am holding a pair of deuces.  

Maybe I will be able to dust it all fairly swiftly, but more importantly, thoroughly, and move on through in a timely fashion.  Hopefully, I will not get any closer to the deep, black hole, for that is truly TERRIFYING, in case you didn't know.  I wish I didn't.

Because I've made it a point to end my entries on notes of gratitude, I am grateful that I have this venue to record my sadness, my wishes.  Now they are on a screen in front of me and I feel justified in feeling this sad.  So, now I will go to bed and I will have faith that He will bring me to tomorrow with renewed vision.

And it's bedtime in August

It feels like too much time has passed without recording any thoughts or events.  I'm not sure if that's true, but it feels that way tonight, so, I'm going to do the "stream of consciousness" thing and see what comes out.  Just finished getting ready for bed, so this might have potholes.   Here goes:

I have coped with quite a lot successfully recently.  And I think its important to recognize that.  Not to be too proud but just proud enough that I am aware of my growth and how my life is improved by  it.  I have been controlled by anxiety before and I have also lived in relative isolation because of my situation in society, but that's not me anymore.  Not at all.  Now, I rarely have fear.  And it is almost never a factor in deciding where to go or what to engage in.  Not to say I'm still not careful about what I undertake.  I'm just not afraid anymore.  I'm realistic.  And, I'm also much less self-conscious than I have previously been about wanting others not to hear me struggle to speak.  I am making a huge effort to bring more people into my life, and to keeping the quality ones there.  I haven't made this a priority before but, I want it to be more so.  I want to have more of a social network, and I'm actively doing something about that.  Which is lovely because, I not in a complaining mode, or even a problem solving mode, but an action mode.  It feels great in action mode.  I find that I miss this mode as much as I miss everything else.

My sister passed away a few weeks ago, and I am able to reflect on my relationship with her as everything I could have hoped for.  We forgave each other everything before saying goodbye, and now, I can feel her super-social influence in my life as I meet new friends often.  Her daughters carry on her smile and her eyes.  And I am so relieved to know that she no longer lives in that wrecked and ruined physical body.  And, I don't feel even a bit guilty about that relief.  She would feel it too, and would feel it for any of us who she loved.

I have begun several different hobbies and I think I want to stumble onto one which will be so clever and easy and inventive that I can market and produce a product which is healing, fun, healthy, etc.  I know it, in fact.  It's at the base of me.  I want to be well.  I don't want to read on discussion boards how others with my illness are so very very depressed.  That is so dangerous.  You can't know unless you've felt it, just how dangerous that is.  I want to discover something I can message them and say, hey, try doing this for a few days, it has really helped me.  Also, its natural, inexpensive, etc.  I am desperate to keep more drugs out of me.  I am continuing to strive to get and keep my body into a shape which is acceptable and sustainable as I get deep into middle age.  I had some help with the math recently and discovered that I actually am not even 45 anymore, I'm 46!  I have to get a grip on this because its only going to get harder.  Stupid sweet carbs.  Of doom.

I felt good during pilates again today.  It was my last one-on-one session and from here out, I will take mat classes for a couple months.  I came home exhausted and ate lunch and then went to bed, as I have every time.  And this time, I didn't wake up symptom-free, but I am feeling pretty good if I can be this cognitively aware at bedtime.  Lots of times I am doing well to form elementary sentences.

Have a looming sense that I should give the dog a bath tomorrow.  But, that's probably not going to happen.  It could but, I wouldn't lay down any money on it.

I'm so, so blessed.  I'm able to see what some cannot.  I'm able to hear what some cannot.  We all have special talents, as my 6-yr-old niece would say.  I'm not sure what my very specific talent would be in her eyes but, I hope it is along the lines of kindness.  I hope whatever it is keeps me close to Christ.