Friday, May 14, 2010

Scattered Thoughts

(4) Stories for lonely shots - No Matter Where
Originally uploaded by
Gavin Liam Levitz Russell

I'm sinking again. I had a fine day, but since leaving the office I could feel myself going under. It's that familiar feeling of not having the strength to keep myself afloat.

I came down to my room so that I can feel free to cry out. The boys have sensed this as usual, as they have asked a few times tonight if I'm okay. I don't want to worry them. We need to have a good weekend. Tomorrow is my youngest son's 12th birthday. His birthday request is to not have to go to his religion class. He's so funny. I suppose God will understand. He just wants a day to do what makes him happy. Part of that happiness will be when we head out to the Guitar Center with his best friend to buy a new electric guitar. He has been playing for over a year now, and is getting very good. I'm excited about this outing as well, as I love music, and am so happy he has found his passion with the guitar.

I'm feeling better now. It helps to look ahead, even if it's just looking toward tomorrow. I didn't sleep well last night. I kept having these uneasy dreams that just didn't make any sense. I woke up several times, feeling physically sore from all the tossing and turning. In my sleep I kept reaching out for Michael, but finding only pillows. They had to do, as there was nothing else there. That's the feeling I'm having tonight. I feel like I am going through withdrawal symptoms. I physically ache for not having Michael here with me. I can find no comfort. I haven't felt this bad for quite some time. It feels like I am back where I started.

Unfortunately I have some secondary parenting issues going on with my daughter at the moment, which makes all of this doubly hard. As we all know too well, the rest of our life doesn't suddenly get easier just because we are going through the trauma of loss. No, it all seems to hit you at once. Right now it's a heavy load, and I am feeling less capable of managing the weight of it all.

This whole post feels so scattered. I have no clear direction, and I'm feeling less than inspired by my own words tonight. This tells me to put the laptop aside, and put my energy somewhere else. I probably just need a good night's sleep.


  1. these feelings of sinking under the surface are so hard to get through. you are right. they are physically draining. and when you actively face, over and over, that your husband is irrevocably gone from this life you can wonder how you will make it. i have read that it does get easier, more familiar. i am waiting to see.

    i pray for you daily. i wish for a good day for you today, your children as well - but mostly for you. enjoy the music of today with your youngest. whatever issues you have with your daughter, i pray they pass with resolutions you are both happy with.

    i simply hold you in my heart. and yes, a good night's sleep helps.

  2. I've had a couple of "sinking days" myself lately - mainly feeling angry over Don's death, and that I'm just kind of tired of pushing on after 20 months alone - and let's face it - another year before that of caring for Don, knowing I would eventually be left alone. I know I'm doing okay - probably even "well" under the circumstances, but there are still bad days and nights. I think yesterday was probably something of a nadir. One thing I've noticed, and it's not really new to me, is that I become most depressed and/or angry during the dark part of the lunar cycle. Go figure.
    Anyhow, just a few days ago, I happened upon some short pieces on grief that were published in Slate. It's a series on grief written by Meghan O'Rourke after the death of her mother. I have read one or two at a time over the past few days and find myself thinking, "Yes!" She has really nailed some of the thoughts and feelings that many of us probably have after losing someone very close to us. I mention the series here as you or someone else may find it helpful. This link should probably take you to the first piece, and there are boxes numbered 1 to 9 that are for each of the others in the series. Hopefully, that will work.
    In any case, hang in there. That's what I'm doing right now. Hanging in and waiting to feel better sometime soon.

  3. Checked in on you today Dan and felt the familiar pit in the stomach that comes with wondering when this pain actually gets better. When do the sliding back days end? When can we count on a consistently forward moving trajectory?

    Just reading your words takes me right back to the days when I felt certain that grief was an unending maze filled with trick mirrors and no real exit. Over the last five years I have discovered that the days where we physically ache for our spouse have their own purpose on this crazy journey. The moments when finding a way out of the pain of loss seems impossible and yet we keep stumbling on in search of hope are also steps forward. Slowly and often without even being aware we find ourselves in new place stronger for the effort of carrying the weight of grief.

    Hang in there and know that there are so many people out here in the blogsphere walking right beside you and lighting the way with a candle of hope for tomorrow.

    Happy Birthday to your son, I hope the day is filled with the music of love.


  4. Thanks wNs,bev and Michele for sharing your experiences and your understanding nod. Last night was a heavy one to get through, but like after a storm, the sun begins to slowly appear. We are having a fun day with my son's birthday.