Here it is, 1:54 am, and I can't sleep. I have been tossing and turning, feeling frustrated that once again, I don't see the point of sleeping. My days and nights are all the same. I can make them pleasant, and I can either busy myself, or just sit. Either way there is no escaping my reality.
As I laid here in bed it dawned on me that it was now September, a month I didn't want to come around. The moment I realized this I broke down, heaving a groan of despair. I feel like my heart is being pulled under, or that I am being sucked into a big black hole. I desperately want to escape this. September is bringing back so much pain. Pain I don't want to feel.
I am starting to doubt my own words of optimism. I feel like I want to run and hide. I don't really want to think about how difficult this time was last year. I don't want to think about Michael's suffering. I don't want to picture him so helpless.
Night time often feels like hell to me. I can occupy my thoughts by writing, reading or watching something on television, but eventually I have to lay down in our bed alone. I have to turn out the lights and experience the empty darkness around me. I have to lay here needing a comfort that will not be mine.
Nothing is going to help. I need him. It's him that I want.
I sound like a broken record. I'm tired of hearing myself think or say this. I want to smack my own head and tell myself to snap out of it. Michael is dead! Deal with it.
This is the time, that in the past I would start going through everything of Michael's in the room. I would go for all the cards he gave me. I would read all of his words. I would start touching all of his clothing, and hold them near to me, hoping to smell his scent, or to grab hold of his DNA. Next I might even make the mistake of getting out the DVD of our wedding so I can hear him recite his vows to me. I would sit here in tears, looking at the way he looks at me. I would get to experience that wonderful smile, and those glorious eyes.
Broken record. Broken record.
Get over it. Get a grip. Get on with life.
I hate the night. I hate September.
I'm up late every night. It's getting worse and worse. I want peace. I want acceptance. I want to stop feeling so victimized by life. I want to wake up and realize it was all a fucking dream. I'm still so damn mad.
This is stupid. It feels like it's getting me no where. I spend all of my time with my computer attached to my hip. It is like a lifeline for me, but one person's lifeline can be another persons addiction. Am I addicted to this cyber world where I can just throw out my thoughts to the Internet, and sometimes within minutes have some kind of response?
Even now, at 2:29 am, I am keenly aware that once I stop typing, and put away my computer, I will once again be alone in my room, and alone in my grief. I am so tired of telling myself to just relax and sleep.
Sleep, what for?
I, too, have struggled with that cyber-question. I think it came for me when I started calling some of the people I met through my blog "friends," although I do not know most of them in person.
ReplyDeleteI've come to the conclusion that while the internet has its strange sides (like the penis enlargement spam I receive almost daily - the last thing I want being 9 months pregnant is a penis implant...), a very good part of it is that it allows us to connect with people who've been through a similar thing; people who are far away, half-way across the globe even; people we would have never met without the internet; people who are connected with us simply because "it" happened to them, too; comfort & understanding we would have never received. And certainly that kind of reaching out must be healthier than sniffin' something or drowning oneself in alcohol, for example.
I'm not a support group kinda gal. Just not me. But being able to send Sarah in MN ~ Hi, Sarah! I know you comment here sometimes! :-) ~ an e-mail, telling her how I'm freaking out & having fears of death during these last few days of my pregnancy & getting a response in a short time from someone who has been in that very situation... well, if it was one of those credit card commercials, I would just say, it's priceless...
Perchance to dream?
ReplyDeleteEspecially of those glorious eyes.
My heart is with you, for I know and remember that one year anniversary all too well. I so wish I could be with you for it.
Sending you my love, Dan xx
Hi Cadi! love right back at you!! :)
ReplyDeleteDan~something that has helped me tremendously with my sleep issues (i haven't slept much since Brett died) is meditation. seriously. even if it's just for a few mintues. just that act of trying to quiet my head, slow my breathing and completely relax my body is helpful. the other nite i went in so deeply and so quickly that i found myself standing in front of Brett, his eyes warm and loving. He put my hands on his chest and my body got so physically warm and tingly that I started to hyperventilate and had to bring myself out of meditation. amazing things can happen. peace to you friend.
Sarah,
ReplyDeleteWe probably have Dan breaking out in a sweat. I've read something in the comment section before about two people "hijacking" the comment section... I bet he's thinking, "Not more of that!" :-)
shoot, well I had a whole comment typed out, then my computer randomly jumped to some other page. New computer - haven't figured it out yet.
ReplyDeleteTo summarize and shorten:
Dan loves hijacking. Right Dan? :)
Sleep is sometimes the only reprieve from the awake nightmare. I've also been known to fall asleep with a mala in my hands, trying to meditate myself into calmness.
I can lose hours online. Within this community, for me, reading blogs, commenting, and reading comments on my blog is helpful and tiny bits of good. It's the random poking around that drains me, and feels so ridiculously useless. Then I just think - this? This is my life now? Ridiculous. And for this, I am not reading, or running, or doing any other thing that might POSSIBLY bring some peace into me? really? But then, I still choose it.
xo
Dan - Today is September 1st. Two years ago today, at around just this time of day - a little after noon, I had just finished bathing Don and helping him get into a clean t-shirt and lounge pants. He looked so nice to me that I got out my camera and took a photo of him. Just after that, he said he was having a hard time getting any air. I asked if he would like me to take him to the hospital. He said to wait a few minutes, and then a little while later, he said that we should go. I half-carried him to the van and drove him to the ER of the hospital where he took all of his cancer treatments. Within minutes, several doctors were examining him and I was being asked about his "do no resuscitate" orders and then we were both asked if he wanted to be put on a ventilator. We were told he might never come off of it. It was a hard decision to make. I can still see him smiling after kissing me "goodbye" and giving me the thumbs-up as they put the respirator mask on and began sedating him to set up the ventilator. That was really "the end" that day, although I did see him slightly off sedation once, but he looked upset and panicked over the ventilator, so he was quickly sedated again. Anyhow, a few more days and it's the second sadiversary. I have just avoided thinking too hard about the whole thing. For the most part, this year, I've just carried on with my life - working on the old house and gradually making plans for this winter's trip. Last year, I was caught up in the sale of our farm and leaving it for the last time on the morning of the day before the first sadiversary. I try to think of where I was at then, and where I'm at now. Things are better now. Not fantastic, and not even good, but they are "okay". I'm not nearly as angry as last year -- in fact, there's very little anger anymore. I sleep better - not great - but okay, especially when I've put in a long, hard day of work on the house, or when I'm traveling and knock off and go to bed after making dinner on the camp stove. I am not as lonely now - I know I was never as lonely as most others seem to be, but that's because I always was a loner and always will be one - but that doesn't mean I don't still miss Don, because I do. The only thing that usually makes me cry anymore is thinking of those last couple of months, and particularly those last couple of weeks, and how unfair it was that Don ever had to go though that time - and likewise how unfair it was for me too. I don't really think I'll ever get past this one point in my sadness, but it's okay as I know I'm completely justified in feeling what I'm feeling.
ReplyDeleteAll in all, life is okay. Better than a year ago at this time. Hang in there and find whatever good you can find in life. I think you will find that a year from now, you'll be in a better place than right now. I hope that I will be too.
dan - the cyber world is cheering for you...
ReplyDeleteCadi, hijackers are always welcome and encouraged.
ReplyDeleteAnd yes Sarah, I will try the meditation. This used to be part of my daily practice, but I have let go of it for some reason.
Boo, I too wish we were close enough to drop by. Thanks for your loving support.
Megan, boy do I connect with all the lost hours surfing the net. I too know there are better things I could be doing with my time, but so often just get lost in it.
Bev, thanks for sharing your experience here. My heart hurts for what you went through during that time. So difficult, and so poignant.
Anon, thanks for the encouraging word.
Dan ~ i had let go of meditating too for some reason. i think sometimes we do this because we know it's in our best interest to do it but try to avoid it, knowing full well what we might have to confront or what it may bring to the surface. but lately, i haven't had much choice as i've felt compelled by forces out of my control to do the "work."
ReplyDeleteDan,
ReplyDeleteI remember being in that hellish place, too. I almost stopped blogging because I, too, felt like a broken record and thought that everyone must have been really sick of me. I knew that I was!
But don't stop. Keep letting it out.
I promise, my friend, that you will get stronger and better able to deal with the grief.
It just takes time.
Your own time.
No one else's.
But please know that there are so many of out here who are sending you love, encouragement and strength.
We are here.
Whenever you need us.
:)
Sending you big hugs, my friend. No question reaching this month is hard, and I'm so, so sorry.
ReplyDeleteFor what little condolence it may offer - it is possible to make it to day 366. I barely believed it so, but I made it to the other side.
Lots of love,
~C~
Dan,
ReplyDeleteHugs, dear man, this is a hard time and we all wish we could take it away for you - but we can't. I picture a group of women in a circle around you, circling you with compassion, empathy and knowing love. Use us as support. We will do our best to hold you up, to bolster you. You are not alone in this deep pain and darkness.
dorthea