I have always been one of those people who wears their heart on their sleeve. Hiding emotions has never been my strong point. You can always tell when I am upset. Until recently.
These past twelve months have changed me. I can honestly say I am not the person I was a year ago. I used to need to talk about everything. Find meaning in everything. I had expectations for what I thought life would serve me. Now? Not so much. Now I know what it means to be broken. What it means to be disappointed and gutted and beaten up. I know pain. I know the feeling of wishing for something so hard it hurts only to find out it won't happen. I know how to cry. I know how to yell and thrash and grieve. My story is unique but I am not alone. There are a lot of people who know those feelings too- they have been disappointed by life and have hurt and seen pain. I realize that it is part of life now.
What I didn't anticipate was how it would change me. To say the least I have taken my heart off my sleeve. When I did so I did it on a day I didn't even anticipate I would do it. Yes, I have had news recently that sent shock waves through my system. And I reacted like the old me at first. Crying, talking the whole thing through, running through scenario after scenario trying to control it. Letting life be consumed by it.
But then I woke up one day and felt numb. That heart that had always had such a starring role on my sleeve was now quiet. When I looked down at it I was shocked to see that it was suddenly covered in steel.
Perhaps I had reached my breaking point. Subconsciously I had realized I was in system self-destruct and my mind had covered my heart in a hard shell overnight in defense. It felt good. For once I felt strong. I felt impervious to myself and my worries. I walked harder. I spoke louder. I felt a different person take over to take care of me. I liked her. She was functional and rational. She stifled pain and rode it out like some bad cough syrup you have to take to get a good night's sleep. Swallowed it down even though it tasted sour and bitter the whole way. Overnight a different person had taken over inside me. I shifted into some sort of auto-pilot, except this auto pilot was a foreign being. I had never met her before. Had she been there all along? Watching and waiting for the almost-tipping-point to take the wheel of my senses?
At first, she scared me a little. Was this just some sort of delirium I would wake up from and suddenly be a blubbering, anxiety-ridden mess all over again? But I let her do her thing for a while. She seemed to be sticking around. Three days turned into a week. A week into two... two is almost a month.
I remember praying when I felt like I had hit a wall that I needed someone to help me. Never had I needed a "substitute Bethany" to step in more and fill in for me more than I did almost a month ago. And a couple days later, when it felt like I was going to lose all control of myself- there she was. The one with the steel heart. She's angry. She's fearless. And she ran out of shits to give a looonnnnggg time ago.
If she were a Native American maybe that'd be her name- Girl with the Steel Heart. Or even better, it could be the name of some novel or even a corny memoir. But it's true. Bethany Blubber-girl with her heart on her sleeve suddenly woke up and her heart was no longer operating- someone or something had covered it in non-corrosive metal.
For now, it works. For now it's nice not to feel. It's nice to walk down the street and know that nothing can hurt me. You can't break me anymore- I am already in pieces. It adds an element of fearlessness to my life. Hate me? Good. Don't care. Disappointing news? Ha! I'm used to it!
Of course I know it can always get worse. And yes, there are things that could happen that would hurt ten times worse than what I am currently dealing with. But I must say, you don't worry about fire when your house has already burned down. And not to worry, for me, it's a freaking relief.
So for the time being I am going to let Steel-Heart ride this wave out for me. If it turns out that my heart is forever covered then so be it. But if life hands me a key to unlock it eventually, I will gladly accept. For now though, don't look on my sleeve anymore to find out how I am. My new substitute self is too busy walking harder and speaking louder to show it.
Pecking Hen ~Pecking since 1982~
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Friday, April 5, 2013
"Catastrophic Thinking" is Going to Kill my Marathon Time
Let me begin by saying that NO, I am not running a marathon in the literal sense. Those that know me know that I am allergic to long distance running. But I am facing a challenge equally if not more daunting.
Okay so how to be socially tactful about this... How to communicate the news I got without actually revealing too much...
Well, I got some VERY disheartening news the other day in the form of test results. Disheartening is probably not a proper word to describe the news...I got news that basically said my plans for my future will range from somewhat challenging to perhaps impossible. That's a big range but that's where I'm at. Potential surgeries, treatments, the whole works.
I am trying to be lighthearted in my description or you, as the reader, would think I was throwing myself a pity party. Well, I have been but I won't do it here. The fact is this news warrants a good pity party, a complete meltdown if you want the truth, but at this point my whole point of writing this is to express my pure confusion and panic in this situation.
Once again I find myself in a situation where there is no script. By now, you've probably determined that I have a big issue with that. Not just a big issue, a complete complex. If there's no "script" to follow, I start to resemble a dancing circus bear- rotating on a podium in a tutu repeatedly. Wait, what?...
What I mean is, I start to ruminate and fixate on my issues, having no real direction, until I have "flow-mapped" every possible scenario in a fruitless attempt to control it.
And at this point I am still in the tutu. No matter how many flow-map scenarios I come up with I am still left in such an ambiguous and scary situation. I am so uncomfortable with the "unknown" that it makes my already dire situation that much worse. And all my hypothetical analysis has led me to what my friend (hey Louisa) termed "Catastrophic Thinking."
Defined, "catastrophic thinking" is where you take a situation and immediately revert to the "worst case scenario" and determine that it is already in the works. It is the most pessimistic, negative thinking a person can do, and I have been in the thick of it for 3 days. I have already prepared myself for the "let's face it it could happen" result of me being a childless, divorced cat lady living in a card board box down by the river. My only solace is that I would still have my kindle- I can't survive without my kindle.
And like I said, it could happen. But there are other things that could happen too- a comet could hit the earth and destroy Baltimore. I could contract SARS and have to be quarantined in a government hospital. The government could outlaw Outback cheese fries- they're that good. And while all of these situations are examples of inane and ridiculous, or rather, unlikely, situations, my predicament is indeed "bad enough" to warrant ridiculous thinking. What I mean is, my "worst-case scenario" has a better chance of happening than those above.
I used this when trying to defend my ruminations and pity-parties. I was then told that I was making the "in-between" period that much worse by negative thoughts. That I was acting like they were already written in the books, when they weren't. That although, yes, I have had horrible luck so far, it didn't mean for sure it would continue....
Touche...
I am basically at a point where I need to re-train my brain away from the "worst-case scenario." I guess I feel like if I prepare myself for the worst, it won't hurt as much if it happens. There is a part of me that sees value to that. However, I then realize that when the worst-case scenarios did happen in my life, they hurt just as bad. No amount of preparation can ease the pain of life's punches. Building a bunker in my basement full of "end-of-the-world" supplies would not ease the disappointment that the world actually ended, so what was I doing?
I see the error of my ways but it doesn't make it any easier to stop myself when I allow my mind to torture me. I have to remind myself that it isn't often that a person gets news of this nature and that I am warranted worry and grief. I just need to be aware of the damage I am doing to my psyche and my spirit while I wait for events to unfold.
Many people say to "trust God" that things will work out as they are supposed to. And I am trying. It is harder when God's plans don't fall in my "flow map." And I know I shouldn't expect them to. God knows I have heard of many people" having it harder" than I currently do. But heartache is heartache, no matter the circumstances.
I need to prepare my heart for a long haul and build myself up to be ready for what will unfold. It is hard when you think you have reached the last mile of the race and realize you have many, many more still to run. The times when all the stereotypical coaches out there would tell me to "dig deep." Never has that advice meant more. I will have to dig very deeply here. My legs and lungs may be tired from the race so far but if I plan to cross the finish line I need to dig deeper to find my wind to make it. And while I do that I have to realize that the catastrophic thinking I tend to do is only hindering my stride.
At this point I just have to hope that instead of 25 more miles to go in this marathon, I only have a couple more...I can't think of the finish line until I see it. In the meantime I just need to focus on my breathing, my stride and making it that next quarter mile...
Okay so how to be socially tactful about this... How to communicate the news I got without actually revealing too much...
Well, I got some VERY disheartening news the other day in the form of test results. Disheartening is probably not a proper word to describe the news...I got news that basically said my plans for my future will range from somewhat challenging to perhaps impossible. That's a big range but that's where I'm at. Potential surgeries, treatments, the whole works.
I am trying to be lighthearted in my description or you, as the reader, would think I was throwing myself a pity party. Well, I have been but I won't do it here. The fact is this news warrants a good pity party, a complete meltdown if you want the truth, but at this point my whole point of writing this is to express my pure confusion and panic in this situation.
Once again I find myself in a situation where there is no script. By now, you've probably determined that I have a big issue with that. Not just a big issue, a complete complex. If there's no "script" to follow, I start to resemble a dancing circus bear- rotating on a podium in a tutu repeatedly. Wait, what?...
What I mean is, I start to ruminate and fixate on my issues, having no real direction, until I have "flow-mapped" every possible scenario in a fruitless attempt to control it.
And at this point I am still in the tutu. No matter how many flow-map scenarios I come up with I am still left in such an ambiguous and scary situation. I am so uncomfortable with the "unknown" that it makes my already dire situation that much worse. And all my hypothetical analysis has led me to what my friend (hey Louisa) termed "Catastrophic Thinking."
Defined, "catastrophic thinking" is where you take a situation and immediately revert to the "worst case scenario" and determine that it is already in the works. It is the most pessimistic, negative thinking a person can do, and I have been in the thick of it for 3 days. I have already prepared myself for the "let's face it it could happen" result of me being a childless, divorced cat lady living in a card board box down by the river. My only solace is that I would still have my kindle- I can't survive without my kindle.
And like I said, it could happen. But there are other things that could happen too- a comet could hit the earth and destroy Baltimore. I could contract SARS and have to be quarantined in a government hospital. The government could outlaw Outback cheese fries- they're that good. And while all of these situations are examples of inane and ridiculous, or rather, unlikely, situations, my predicament is indeed "bad enough" to warrant ridiculous thinking. What I mean is, my "worst-case scenario" has a better chance of happening than those above.
I used this when trying to defend my ruminations and pity-parties. I was then told that I was making the "in-between" period that much worse by negative thoughts. That I was acting like they were already written in the books, when they weren't. That although, yes, I have had horrible luck so far, it didn't mean for sure it would continue....
Touche...
I am basically at a point where I need to re-train my brain away from the "worst-case scenario." I guess I feel like if I prepare myself for the worst, it won't hurt as much if it happens. There is a part of me that sees value to that. However, I then realize that when the worst-case scenarios did happen in my life, they hurt just as bad. No amount of preparation can ease the pain of life's punches. Building a bunker in my basement full of "end-of-the-world" supplies would not ease the disappointment that the world actually ended, so what was I doing?
I see the error of my ways but it doesn't make it any easier to stop myself when I allow my mind to torture me. I have to remind myself that it isn't often that a person gets news of this nature and that I am warranted worry and grief. I just need to be aware of the damage I am doing to my psyche and my spirit while I wait for events to unfold.
Many people say to "trust God" that things will work out as they are supposed to. And I am trying. It is harder when God's plans don't fall in my "flow map." And I know I shouldn't expect them to. God knows I have heard of many people" having it harder" than I currently do. But heartache is heartache, no matter the circumstances.
I need to prepare my heart for a long haul and build myself up to be ready for what will unfold. It is hard when you think you have reached the last mile of the race and realize you have many, many more still to run. The times when all the stereotypical coaches out there would tell me to "dig deep." Never has that advice meant more. I will have to dig very deeply here. My legs and lungs may be tired from the race so far but if I plan to cross the finish line I need to dig deeper to find my wind to make it. And while I do that I have to realize that the catastrophic thinking I tend to do is only hindering my stride.
At this point I just have to hope that instead of 25 more miles to go in this marathon, I only have a couple more...I can't think of the finish line until I see it. In the meantime I just need to focus on my breathing, my stride and making it that next quarter mile...
Sunday, March 17, 2013
"Life Doesn't Care About Streaks"
Before the Superbowl I saw a special on ESPN about a Towson student (TU Represent!) who had multiple health issues throughout his life. After battling disease and heartache as a young man, he went to college and things started going well. He thought his "streak" of bad luck was over. Then his mother, who had raised him alone, was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Still, he fought on in pursuit of happiness. An avid Ravens fan, he began to draw parallels between his life and the Ravens season. The Ravens had lost a couple big games in a row...they were in a losing streak. Each week they faced the field again thinking it couldn't happen again, that a streak could break and they were "due for a win." This student wrote to Harbaugh, telling him that he shouldn't count on his "due." That "life doesn't care about streaks." That if they wanted to turn things around they had to do it themselves- they had to fight for their success and their wins. That in life, no one is owed anything.
I remember hearing his letter on ESPN and huge, heavy tears ran down my face as his words sunk in. Here was a person who has faced an entire life of hardship and was dealt another blow when he thought his "streak" was over. And yet, he still stood with his head high and faced life each day living the best life that he could.
For some reason, I felt like he was talking directly to me. And maybe Harbaugh thought he was talking directly to him...maybe the entire squad thought he was talking directly to their season, their losses, their successes. I would wager that most who listened to his words felt a cord struck within them. We all have had times where we have had "streaks" that have bowled us over and knocked us down repeatedly. His message is universal.
Life owes us nothing. We cannot count on life to dole hardship out "fairly." In times of crisis we often say "it's not fair," as if that somehow matters...as if there is someone, somewhere who is keeping a tally on who is "due" for their bad luck and who has already "served their time." Is this not foolish thinking? We are trained to believe that if we suffer a loss in one area of our lives that we are somehow exempt from bad luck elsewhere. But that simply isn't the case. Throughout history we have seen, time and time again, people who have been repeatedly persecuted, repeatedly challenged, repeatedly taxed.And yet, if life was "fair" they would never have had to face hardship again and again since they had already, in theory, gotten their "fair share" of adversity.
But that's the whole point. Life will hand out the lemons whether you decide to make lemonade or not. It is our outlook and our attitude that ultimately determines how we perceive those cards we are dealt. Finding meaning and lessons in our struggles can help, but ultimately happiness and satisfaction with the hand we are dealt all comes down to resiliency and perspective. Once we humble ourselves and realize that we aren't entitled to anything in this life, our struggles fall away and we begin to see the things we have been fortunate enough to blessed with. To realize we aren't owed anything, and that bad luck doesn't care how often it visits is like being given a gift. It helps humble us and makes us more grateful for the good luck we have had in some parts of our lives.
As I move forward from that horrible day in November and face Quinn's "due date" in April, which will now be a day of grief and pain, I sometimes catch myself thinking, "it could never happen again, that's just not fair." It is then that I stop and think about that Towson student who reminded me of the harsh reality that just because I suffered bad luck once does not mean it cannot happen again. It certainly could. And I then have to stop and think to myself, "life doesn't care about streaks." I put on my brave face in those moments. I reach deep inside and appeal to the only Person who can control what life hands me, God. All I can do is hope that one of these times, it WON'T happen. That I will get my happy ending. But in the mean time I have to arm myself with strength and with faith, in case it does. I have to remind myself that this is a road I mostly walk alone. Sure, there are others out there who have seen the specific type of pain I have felt, but that they are few and far between- that more often, I will see others get their happy ending while I wait silently for mine. Because life isn't fair. And while I wait, I need to just make sure that I am doing my best to make lemonade from each and every lemon I am given.
I remember hearing his letter on ESPN and huge, heavy tears ran down my face as his words sunk in. Here was a person who has faced an entire life of hardship and was dealt another blow when he thought his "streak" was over. And yet, he still stood with his head high and faced life each day living the best life that he could.
For some reason, I felt like he was talking directly to me. And maybe Harbaugh thought he was talking directly to him...maybe the entire squad thought he was talking directly to their season, their losses, their successes. I would wager that most who listened to his words felt a cord struck within them. We all have had times where we have had "streaks" that have bowled us over and knocked us down repeatedly. His message is universal.
Life owes us nothing. We cannot count on life to dole hardship out "fairly." In times of crisis we often say "it's not fair," as if that somehow matters...as if there is someone, somewhere who is keeping a tally on who is "due" for their bad luck and who has already "served their time." Is this not foolish thinking? We are trained to believe that if we suffer a loss in one area of our lives that we are somehow exempt from bad luck elsewhere. But that simply isn't the case. Throughout history we have seen, time and time again, people who have been repeatedly persecuted, repeatedly challenged, repeatedly taxed.And yet, if life was "fair" they would never have had to face hardship again and again since they had already, in theory, gotten their "fair share" of adversity.
But that's the whole point. Life will hand out the lemons whether you decide to make lemonade or not. It is our outlook and our attitude that ultimately determines how we perceive those cards we are dealt. Finding meaning and lessons in our struggles can help, but ultimately happiness and satisfaction with the hand we are dealt all comes down to resiliency and perspective. Once we humble ourselves and realize that we aren't entitled to anything in this life, our struggles fall away and we begin to see the things we have been fortunate enough to blessed with. To realize we aren't owed anything, and that bad luck doesn't care how often it visits is like being given a gift. It helps humble us and makes us more grateful for the good luck we have had in some parts of our lives.
As I move forward from that horrible day in November and face Quinn's "due date" in April, which will now be a day of grief and pain, I sometimes catch myself thinking, "it could never happen again, that's just not fair." It is then that I stop and think about that Towson student who reminded me of the harsh reality that just because I suffered bad luck once does not mean it cannot happen again. It certainly could. And I then have to stop and think to myself, "life doesn't care about streaks." I put on my brave face in those moments. I reach deep inside and appeal to the only Person who can control what life hands me, God. All I can do is hope that one of these times, it WON'T happen. That I will get my happy ending. But in the mean time I have to arm myself with strength and with faith, in case it does. I have to remind myself that this is a road I mostly walk alone. Sure, there are others out there who have seen the specific type of pain I have felt, but that they are few and far between- that more often, I will see others get their happy ending while I wait silently for mine. Because life isn't fair. And while I wait, I need to just make sure that I am doing my best to make lemonade from each and every lemon I am given.
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
The In-Between
It's been a while since I have written. I guess that's to be expected considering all I've been through. Basically I am currently finding myself in a state of "in-between." The time between the "ouch that really hurt" and the "oh I feel better." Because I can't say I feel better yet- not 100%. Perhaps I never will. But I suppose I am starting to heal. As test results roll in and my body begins to slowly recuperate from November, I can start to sit back and reflect on what's happened.
Did I ever think I would be here? Are you kidding me!?!?! No. Never would I have seen this as "my story." But it is. And I have to accept it. I have often wondered "why?" Actually "often" is an understatement. I ask myself "why" just about every second of every day. But I am slowly starting to answer it for myself. Why did it happen? Because for some reason out of my grasp, it was supposed to. Because when one door closes, another one opens. Because when you lay something at the feet of God, He responds with His plan. And it might not be in my power to know why I was never supposed to raise Quinn. I just wasn't.
At this point I am still dusting myself off. I am no longer on the ground with the wind knocked out of me, but I still have some dirt on my clothes from my fall and I am still trying to get back on my feet. And sometimes I can feel the wind get knocked out of me a little at a time, all over again. A confusing test result. A repeat surgery. The many people who post their baby happiness all over facebook, not realizing that there are people out there who have lost babies and cannot feel that joy. Because, yes, there's a part of me that's happy for those people but there's another part of me that wants to shake them and say, "do you know who you are hurting? do you know how much your post hurts?!?!?" (Besides the fact that NO ONE wants to see your bare baby bump on Facebook!!!- sorry, vent over).
The "in-between" time is the time I think I have done the most growing- the most soul searching. If I was fully recovered, what reason would I need to grow and try to reflect and be a better person? And if I continually wallowed in my pain and grief, where would I be? So, I guess I am comfortable here at this time. I take comfort in knowing that right now there's no pressure to make any moves...to make decisions or make sense of my life. I am just supposed to heal and take it slow...the pressure is off.
Another part of me hates the In-between time because I am that much farther from what I was trying to do to begin with- be a Mom, have a family. Give my husband a child. And each day in this In-Between time has different ups and downs...it's like a roller coaster. If the controller of the In-between time would just give me an Agenda so I knew where I was then I think it'd be easier...but instead I just have to ride all of these waves out.
But I am hopeful because I am starting to see the "exit" sign to the "I feel better" side. At least as better as I can possibly be after what's happened. I have to just trust that if it's meant to be, it will be.
And that's just....that.
Did I ever think I would be here? Are you kidding me!?!?! No. Never would I have seen this as "my story." But it is. And I have to accept it. I have often wondered "why?" Actually "often" is an understatement. I ask myself "why" just about every second of every day. But I am slowly starting to answer it for myself. Why did it happen? Because for some reason out of my grasp, it was supposed to. Because when one door closes, another one opens. Because when you lay something at the feet of God, He responds with His plan. And it might not be in my power to know why I was never supposed to raise Quinn. I just wasn't.
At this point I am still dusting myself off. I am no longer on the ground with the wind knocked out of me, but I still have some dirt on my clothes from my fall and I am still trying to get back on my feet. And sometimes I can feel the wind get knocked out of me a little at a time, all over again. A confusing test result. A repeat surgery. The many people who post their baby happiness all over facebook, not realizing that there are people out there who have lost babies and cannot feel that joy. Because, yes, there's a part of me that's happy for those people but there's another part of me that wants to shake them and say, "do you know who you are hurting? do you know how much your post hurts?!?!?" (Besides the fact that NO ONE wants to see your bare baby bump on Facebook!!!- sorry, vent over).
The "in-between" time is the time I think I have done the most growing- the most soul searching. If I was fully recovered, what reason would I need to grow and try to reflect and be a better person? And if I continually wallowed in my pain and grief, where would I be? So, I guess I am comfortable here at this time. I take comfort in knowing that right now there's no pressure to make any moves...to make decisions or make sense of my life. I am just supposed to heal and take it slow...the pressure is off.
Another part of me hates the In-between time because I am that much farther from what I was trying to do to begin with- be a Mom, have a family. Give my husband a child. And each day in this In-Between time has different ups and downs...it's like a roller coaster. If the controller of the In-between time would just give me an Agenda so I knew where I was then I think it'd be easier...but instead I just have to ride all of these waves out.
But I am hopeful because I am starting to see the "exit" sign to the "I feel better" side. At least as better as I can possibly be after what's happened. I have to just trust that if it's meant to be, it will be.
And that's just....that.
Sunday, December 2, 2012
Radio Silence
I've reached a point where I can't find anything else to say about what has happened. I find myself wanting to talk about it at moments, to perseverate or stew on the events and rehash everything but I soon discover that nothing I say...nothing I verbalize...will change anything. It sounds like this...
"I feel like...well...I don't know."
Someone else: "Go on. What do you feel?"
"Sometimes I think...but...I guess...never mind."
Every sentence ends in my mind with the following words now: "It's not going to change anything."
Most people know me as a talker. I have to talk everything out. Rehash every detail until my mind can somehow make sense of things, no matter how complex or out of my control. Over the past three weeks I have talked myself in circles in ebbs and flows of feelings.
I guess I have reached a point where I have nothing left to say. Nothing left to throw out there.
I have resigned myself and accepted defeat. Or call it acceptance...I don't know. And accepting these recent twist of events has been the most difficult part. I am not one that easily lies down. I am used to things going the way I planned and failure is not really a part of my normal operating procedure. Maybe this is why I have been so resistant to accepting that there's nothing left to say.
I keep telling myself that this is my story and I have to just accept it. There is nothing more I can say to change it, or to make sense of it because it DOESN'T MAKE SENSE. It's not going to. There is no logic in what has happened to Mondo and I. And I cannot control this event, no matter how hard I try.
And this silence makes me scared. Does this mean I have to move on? Does returning to normal life mean everyone will forget what happened and my pain inside will turn to bitterness and anger? If I stop talking about it, will it fester inside me? What will happen when my guard is down and I don't have the armor up around my heart? And will my unanswered questions wait and lurk and haunt me in my attempt to move on?
At this point my life is like that awkward moment where you are listening to the car radio intently and suddenly the broadcast is cut off and there is nothing but radio silence. You wait...and wait and wait for the music to start again and in the mean time all you hear is the sound of static and the irritating sound of your turn signal clicking in the dashboard.
"I feel like...well...I don't know."
Someone else: "Go on. What do you feel?"
"Sometimes I think...but...I guess...never mind."
Every sentence ends in my mind with the following words now: "It's not going to change anything."
Most people know me as a talker. I have to talk everything out. Rehash every detail until my mind can somehow make sense of things, no matter how complex or out of my control. Over the past three weeks I have talked myself in circles in ebbs and flows of feelings.
I guess I have reached a point where I have nothing left to say. Nothing left to throw out there.
I have resigned myself and accepted defeat. Or call it acceptance...I don't know. And accepting these recent twist of events has been the most difficult part. I am not one that easily lies down. I am used to things going the way I planned and failure is not really a part of my normal operating procedure. Maybe this is why I have been so resistant to accepting that there's nothing left to say.
I keep telling myself that this is my story and I have to just accept it. There is nothing more I can say to change it, or to make sense of it because it DOESN'T MAKE SENSE. It's not going to. There is no logic in what has happened to Mondo and I. And I cannot control this event, no matter how hard I try.
And this silence makes me scared. Does this mean I have to move on? Does returning to normal life mean everyone will forget what happened and my pain inside will turn to bitterness and anger? If I stop talking about it, will it fester inside me? What will happen when my guard is down and I don't have the armor up around my heart? And will my unanswered questions wait and lurk and haunt me in my attempt to move on?
At this point my life is like that awkward moment where you are listening to the car radio intently and suddenly the broadcast is cut off and there is nothing but radio silence. You wait...and wait and wait for the music to start again and in the mean time all you hear is the sound of static and the irritating sound of your turn signal clicking in the dashboard.
Friday, November 30, 2012
Ugly Cry-Face
Throughout this process I have been bowled over numerous times by tears. In times of particular intensity I tend to put on my "ugly cry-face." My family and friends are probably familiar with this face. It's not pretty.
Needless to say, today ugly cry-face came out in the car. The Fray came on the radio and as a person who listens to lyrics of music, I tuned in. And then it started. The ugly crying. I actually had to pull over. It climaxed with the mention of "her."
The Fray's "You Found Me" is about what I am guessing someone's search for God in a time of crisis. A situation I am certainly familiar with in my current predicament. Each day as I search for sense in this horrible event in my life, I continually ask for the support of God...and I tend to find myself asking where He was when my world stopped spinning three weeks ago.
They say God makes everything happen for a reason...and that's all well and good and I am sure it's true. But many times I wondered where He was when I needed him during those unimaginable moments. And where He has been since. "Carrying me" as the old proverb suggests? Watching as I weather this storm?
There are moments of clarity and confidence where I think I have found Him, but it is hard to be sure. Needless to say, this song touched me in a very vulnerable place and sometimes song lyrics can describe my feelings better than I can.
Here they are...
[Verse 1]I found God
On the corner of First and Amistad
Where the west
Was all but won
All alone
Smoking his last cigarette
I said, "Where you been?"
He said, "Ask anything".
[Verse 2]
Where were you
When everything was falling apart?
All my days
Were spent by the telephone
That never rang
And all I needed was a call
That never came
To the corner of First and Amistad
[Chorus 1]
Lost and insecure
You found me, you found me
Lyin' on the floor
Surrounded, surrounded
Why'd you have to wait?
Where were you? Where were you?
Just a little late
You found me, you found me
[Verse 3]
In the end
Everyone ends up alone
Losing her
The only one who's ever known
Who I am
Who I'm not, who I wanna be
No way to know
How long she will be next to me
[Chorus 2]
Lost and insecure
You found me, you found me
Lyin' on the floor
Surrounded, surrounded
Why'd you have to wait?
Where were you? Where were you?
Just a little late
You found me, you found me
[Bridge]
Early morning
The city breaks
I've been callin'
For years and years and years and years
And you never left me no messages
Ya never send me no letters
You got some kinda nerve
Taking all I want
[Chorus 3 and outro]
Lost and insecure
You found me, you found me
Lyin' on the floor
Where were you? Where were you?
Lost and insecure
You found me, you found me
Lyin' on the floor
Surrounded, surrounded
Why'd you have to wait?
Where were you? Where were you?
Just a little late
You found me, you found me
Why'd you have to wait?
To find me, to find me
Needless to say, today ugly cry-face came out in the car. The Fray came on the radio and as a person who listens to lyrics of music, I tuned in. And then it started. The ugly crying. I actually had to pull over. It climaxed with the mention of "her."
The Fray's "You Found Me" is about what I am guessing someone's search for God in a time of crisis. A situation I am certainly familiar with in my current predicament. Each day as I search for sense in this horrible event in my life, I continually ask for the support of God...and I tend to find myself asking where He was when my world stopped spinning three weeks ago.
They say God makes everything happen for a reason...and that's all well and good and I am sure it's true. But many times I wondered where He was when I needed him during those unimaginable moments. And where He has been since. "Carrying me" as the old proverb suggests? Watching as I weather this storm?
There are moments of clarity and confidence where I think I have found Him, but it is hard to be sure. Needless to say, this song touched me in a very vulnerable place and sometimes song lyrics can describe my feelings better than I can.
Here they are...
[Verse 1]I found God
On the corner of First and Amistad
Where the west
Was all but won
All alone
Smoking his last cigarette
I said, "Where you been?"
He said, "Ask anything".
[Verse 2]
Where were you
When everything was falling apart?
All my days
Were spent by the telephone
That never rang
And all I needed was a call
That never came
To the corner of First and Amistad
[Chorus 1]
Lost and insecure
You found me, you found me
Lyin' on the floor
Surrounded, surrounded
Why'd you have to wait?
Where were you? Where were you?
Just a little late
You found me, you found me
[Verse 3]
In the end
Everyone ends up alone
Losing her
The only one who's ever known
Who I am
Who I'm not, who I wanna be
No way to know
How long she will be next to me
[Chorus 2]
Lost and insecure
You found me, you found me
Lyin' on the floor
Surrounded, surrounded
Why'd you have to wait?
Where were you? Where were you?
Just a little late
You found me, you found me
[Bridge]
Early morning
The city breaks
I've been callin'
For years and years and years and years
And you never left me no messages
Ya never send me no letters
You got some kinda nerve
Taking all I want
[Chorus 3 and outro]
Lost and insecure
You found me, you found me
Lyin' on the floor
Where were you? Where were you?
Lost and insecure
You found me, you found me
Lyin' on the floor
Surrounded, surrounded
Why'd you have to wait?
Where were you? Where were you?
Just a little late
You found me, you found me
Why'd you have to wait?
To find me, to find me
Monday, November 26, 2012
Grief
The dictionary defines the word "grief" as "keen mental suffering or distress over affliction or loss; sharp sorrow; painful regret." I searched the definition because I was and am convinced I am dying. No word so small can even begin to describe what is happening to my mind, my heart and my soul. I thought for sure my current state went beyond the boundaries of such a tiny word, a word with such specific implications for behavior. I thought for sure this word only applied to situations where there is some kind of script for handling them- the loss of a parent, a natural disaster, etc. Situations that most people go through and can relate to. I had been convinced that there was a specific word that would apply to my complex situation- the word "grief" did not seem to cover it.
It seemed unfair that there wasn't a protocol attached to this word that was supposed to sum up my feelings. How does one handle a situation that most people don't even talk about? The words "failed pregnancy," "stillborn," or "pregnancy loss" are taboo and unwelcome in our world. Not only was I facing a situation that no one talks about, but I was facing a unique situation within those confines. And although it exists, most people don't encounter women who have suffered second trimester losses- it's so uncommon that even most doctors consider it to be rare or impossible. "You're past twelve weeks- you're fine! What are you worried about? If a baby makes it past twelve weeks it's pretty much a guarantee." Um no, no it's not. I am living proof of that...and my daughter, Quinn Westlynn Cunha? Her short life is proof of that too. Thinking back to hearing those words from one doctor surfaces a rage inside of me that I am actually scared of.
So, not only am I "grieving" in an arena that most people don't even mention...losing a pregnancy...a BABY... is considered "silent suffering"...but even within that arena I am in a situation that most Americans don't even think is possible. Losing a baby in the second trimester is as likely, to some people, as Barack Obama being a U.S. citizen or the Holocaust ever actually happening.
Beyond that, what does one do when the word "grief" doesn't cover the array of emotions coursing through my heart and body in the wake of this? How do you recover from something so unexpected and what some would consider "impossible?" There isn't a script or even suggestions for how to overcome this unique situation. On one hand I think about the daughter I have lost- her perfect hands and feet...her nose a miniature version of her Daddy's- and the breath is ripped right out of me. I have lost a daughter, there is no getting over that. On the other hand I am also "grieving" so many other things. Questions of "why"- "why me" or "why did this happen" plague my every waking moment. Fear for my future incapacitates me daily. Will I ever have kids? Is there something wrong with me? Can I face a future without kids? Even if I have moments of hope that I could get pregnant again soon I am then filled with dread- how would I face another pregnancy after having been through what I have been through? How would I be able to function knowing that one could end so suddenly and horribly just as this one did? Can my body, mind and spirit handle another loss should it happen again?
Mostly though my "grief" manifests not in the big questions and obvious pain that would come from the above situations, but rather when I do the simplest and smallest things. Of course it hurts to see pregnant women, baby clothes, or hear someone has just learned they are pregnant or has just had a child. However, this "grief" hits me harder when I think about this life and how much courage it will take to face it again after this. I get sad and tired thinking of the amount of energy it will take to be functional again in a world that is so unpredictable and cruel. Although it is irrational, the idea of facing each day knowing what can be ripped away from you at any moment- hopes, dreams, family members- is exhausting. Now I am "grieving" the time when I woke smiling- never having known pain on this level. I grieve the loss of my spirit, my faith and my happiness because at this point they are lost to me and I fear a world without them.
So yes, according to the dictionary I suppose the word "grief" does apply to my current state. What the definition fails to mention is the all-encompassing effect of the grief on my spirit. It doesn't mention that I am lost and afraid because I know I will never be the same and I am scared of the world that has brought this pain in my lap. I am afraid to love as hard as I once did, afraid to feel as deeply as I once did. I can sense the hard shell already forming over my heart. Perhaps that is what I am "grieving" the most- the loss of the "me" that loved without abandon. I know one should not live life with fear in one's heart but when I peek inside my own the walls I have already started building to protect myself show how fearful I am. Fearful to face this world that has asked me to "grieve" so deeply.
Right now all I can do is trust that God did this for a reason and be brave while I wait for that reason to be revealed to me. It is in the waiting that I find myself wishing for a script to follow- to guide me out of this nightmare and back into the waking world where I can love again without fear.
It seemed unfair that there wasn't a protocol attached to this word that was supposed to sum up my feelings. How does one handle a situation that most people don't even talk about? The words "failed pregnancy," "stillborn," or "pregnancy loss" are taboo and unwelcome in our world. Not only was I facing a situation that no one talks about, but I was facing a unique situation within those confines. And although it exists, most people don't encounter women who have suffered second trimester losses- it's so uncommon that even most doctors consider it to be rare or impossible. "You're past twelve weeks- you're fine! What are you worried about? If a baby makes it past twelve weeks it's pretty much a guarantee." Um no, no it's not. I am living proof of that...and my daughter, Quinn Westlynn Cunha? Her short life is proof of that too. Thinking back to hearing those words from one doctor surfaces a rage inside of me that I am actually scared of.
So, not only am I "grieving" in an arena that most people don't even mention...losing a pregnancy...a BABY... is considered "silent suffering"...but even within that arena I am in a situation that most Americans don't even think is possible. Losing a baby in the second trimester is as likely, to some people, as Barack Obama being a U.S. citizen or the Holocaust ever actually happening.
Beyond that, what does one do when the word "grief" doesn't cover the array of emotions coursing through my heart and body in the wake of this? How do you recover from something so unexpected and what some would consider "impossible?" There isn't a script or even suggestions for how to overcome this unique situation. On one hand I think about the daughter I have lost- her perfect hands and feet...her nose a miniature version of her Daddy's- and the breath is ripped right out of me. I have lost a daughter, there is no getting over that. On the other hand I am also "grieving" so many other things. Questions of "why"- "why me" or "why did this happen" plague my every waking moment. Fear for my future incapacitates me daily. Will I ever have kids? Is there something wrong with me? Can I face a future without kids? Even if I have moments of hope that I could get pregnant again soon I am then filled with dread- how would I face another pregnancy after having been through what I have been through? How would I be able to function knowing that one could end so suddenly and horribly just as this one did? Can my body, mind and spirit handle another loss should it happen again?
Mostly though my "grief" manifests not in the big questions and obvious pain that would come from the above situations, but rather when I do the simplest and smallest things. Of course it hurts to see pregnant women, baby clothes, or hear someone has just learned they are pregnant or has just had a child. However, this "grief" hits me harder when I think about this life and how much courage it will take to face it again after this. I get sad and tired thinking of the amount of energy it will take to be functional again in a world that is so unpredictable and cruel. Although it is irrational, the idea of facing each day knowing what can be ripped away from you at any moment- hopes, dreams, family members- is exhausting. Now I am "grieving" the time when I woke smiling- never having known pain on this level. I grieve the loss of my spirit, my faith and my happiness because at this point they are lost to me and I fear a world without them.
So yes, according to the dictionary I suppose the word "grief" does apply to my current state. What the definition fails to mention is the all-encompassing effect of the grief on my spirit. It doesn't mention that I am lost and afraid because I know I will never be the same and I am scared of the world that has brought this pain in my lap. I am afraid to love as hard as I once did, afraid to feel as deeply as I once did. I can sense the hard shell already forming over my heart. Perhaps that is what I am "grieving" the most- the loss of the "me" that loved without abandon. I know one should not live life with fear in one's heart but when I peek inside my own the walls I have already started building to protect myself show how fearful I am. Fearful to face this world that has asked me to "grieve" so deeply.
Right now all I can do is trust that God did this for a reason and be brave while I wait for that reason to be revealed to me. It is in the waiting that I find myself wishing for a script to follow- to guide me out of this nightmare and back into the waking world where I can love again without fear.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)