These past few days I have felt alone. Not lonely. Alone. Constantly surrounded by love and support, but so very much alone inside my own head. There are a lot of thoughts in my head and things my body is going through and I go through them alone. I have to question everything my body is doing. I have to lose the weight. I have to think about the fertility treatments to come. And there’s no one that can lessen that stress. It’s all on me. I’m in it alone and all Darcy or anyone can do is cheer me on.
I feel like everyone I know has returned to the world of the living. Even Darcy has returned to work this week because he had to (not because he wanted to). I’m happy that he has a distraction in that. I still can’t even fathom returning to that part of my life right now. I have a hard enough time pulling myself out of bed in the morning. Showering is a chore most days and the thought of talking to most people makes my stomach churn. I’m still clinging hopelessly to the land of the dead.
I thought I knew what grief was before Everlee died. Overwhelming sadness, longing perhaps. I had no idea that grief is forgetfulness, self-centeredness, anger, moodiness, wanting to be alone when in a group and in a group when alone. Grief is hungry and desperate and pulling hair out from discomfort. It is fear. Times ten thousand. It is the feeling of shrinking and starving. Grief is obsession and living in the past.
I never manage to make my grief sound as ugly as it feels. Constantly, people tell me they cry when they read what I write. And it’s peculiar to me. I don’t feel like I’m capturing 1/100th of what I feel, and just that little piece of me is enough to send others to pieces. If only they knew. If only you knew. In person I try so hard to remain calm. Even gracious. When people ask me how I’m doing I respond with things like “As well as can be expected” or “I’m trying to take it one day at a time”. People tell me how strong I am. But inside I am yelling at myself, tearing myself apart “Oh my God. My baby is dead. I can’t believe my baby is dead. All of my hopes and dreams and my baby are dead”.
I’ve been trying to relearn how to live and find stable ground since my world came crashing down. I’ve been quiet. I’ve wailed. I’ve yelled, screamed and smashed things. I’ve lost my faith and trust. I written many words. Most of all I’ve wanted to die, and decided to live.