Relearning How To Live

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.


4 thoughts on “Relearning How To Live

  1. The last line is the one to hold onto.. You Decided to Live. Its what you need to keep on doing. Keep Living. There is no advice or solace that I or anyone else can give. Just remaining a constant presence and reminding you constantly that we have not just moved on. The world is moving around you. Life continues when life ends but no one has forgotten Everlee. It isn’t because of your posts or your grief that we remember. It is because to every friend and family member she held her own meaning and special place. She always will. Keep living. Keep discovering and deciding to find new ways to move forward. To continue on.
    We are still here. The people who love you and care about you are here. You can feel alone and feel trapped inside yourself. But we will be there regardless. Just in case.

  2. I can completely relate. We are planning on doing our FET this summer. I need to lose at least 35 pounds first. But more importantly, I need to resolve some of the stress that has built up from the grieving process. Isn’t it strange how you can feel it in all the muscles of your body? It feels like I’ve been beaten or put through a terrible workout. I wish you luck and if you ever need to talk my email is

  3. all of this is signs of Grieving and that is ok to do, you lost someone that you have wanted for a very long time, your precious baby girl.
    Im sure each day doesn’t make it easier, how can it, each day is another day without her.
    I wish you nothing but a day of peace very soon. love you

  4. It sounds a bit like trying to explain major depression to someone who has never been there. A lot of people can’t fathom the idea of depression getting so bad you literally can’t move. And when you say you want to die, everyone wonders why because they think you have so much to live for.

    I know depression isn’t the same as grief, though. If anything, I think grief can sometimes come with depression, especially if it lasts for a long time. There’s no easy way to keep going ether. But, as Rob quoted, you decided to live. It’s a hard decision to make, and there are days you want to undo that decision…even days when you start planning that “jump”. But somehow you manage to postpone that plan for another day, and another, and another…

    I hope that, should the day come when you can’t take it anymore and you just want to jump, that you remember all your friends who love you (platonically, of course), and that your friends are there to be leaned on. You may feel alone in your mind, Rhonda, but you are not lonely. Know you can always call for help, day or night.

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