Thursday, January 10, 2013
Dare I Say...?
My major depression is lifting. Slowly, but it is. I've mostly been having days of the low tides of grief with an occasional, yet painful, high tide thrown in.
Every time I journal of things being bearable I worry that those who read this will think that I am better. Why do I always feel the need to include this disclaimer? I guess I need to assure people that I am not yet OK - not to close the door on praying for me & my healing...that I cannot have healed from the most tragic loss in just 7 months. As I write this, part of me thinks if the world reads this and thinks that I am "better now," that it gives the world permission to move on from Ethan. To forget him. And I am not OK with that. So consider yourself educated, I am still a hot mess.
I don't spend my days crying endlessly anymore, not usually at least. The shit days are punctuated with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder freak outs (thankfully that's only happened 3 times recently) rather than the physical and emotional hangovers that result from a sobbing binge. (By the way, that's how I lived my first 3-4 months after Ethan's death. It was awful. Rather than using the cloth diapers as burp clothes for Ethan I was using them to catch my tears and runny nose.)
Most days I am able to attend to the day-to-day activities of my family, and enjoy them. Genuinely. Early on I remember moms whose babies had died years prior had told me things would change somehow, and I believed them. Believed them because it wasn't possible for someone to live in that misery of acute grief & shock. But now I think I might be wading into healing waters. I'm not sure how I got here, but I'm here. I can look forward to date night with Josh. Have a great time with friends at dinner. Be excited about settling into our new home. I can feel all of these things fully.
At the same time I am feeling positive emotions I am simultaneously feeling sadness. Envy. Longing. Anger. The grief is still there, both beautiful and ugly. I don't want to avoid my grief, it's a forever journey. As my love for Ethan lasts, so will my grief. I am at peace with this reflective nature.
I no longer feel like I am faking it. Dare I say the light in my eyes might be returning? I think it might be. Flickering. And that's a start.