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I had dreams last night where it seems like every one of my exes made an appearance. I was dating one and holding hands with another while still being aware I'm married, some sort of simultaneous dating, cheating and nothing situation all at once. Another came in while I was hanging out with his friends I haven't seen in years and gave me a kid's puzzle, which was sentimental in the dream because it implied that he remembered giving me one in the past. When he made a passive aggressive comment about when we dated, I made one right back that landed perfectly, which I don't know that I was ever able to do in real life. I'm not usually that hostile in dreams. Who's to say what any of this means?
I feel numb mostly. I've had a lot of bad days recently where unexpected things trigger me-- a post online where someone mentioned twins, a conversation about a coworker's granddaughter where she said something about wanting to be the grandma she never had, a thought that I still miss my Uncle John and Granny and Granda but don't feel as badly about it as when they died, though that just made me jealous that they got to spend time with it now and question whether it was even a baby at all since it died when it was only a cluster of cells. So early. With the doctor's office calling last Monday with the news that my hormone levels are back down to zero and to call when I wind up pregnant again, it's like it never happened at all.
I bought supplies last week to paint. I have plans for a memorial of sorts, though every time I think I know what I want to do, it doesn't seem right or to do it justice. I haven't painted in a long time, and I'm not sure I have the skills to execute what I want to do anyway. I don't know. It can't hurt to try, I guess. Some of the hardest parts of this have been not having anything tangible to point to other than tears cried and blood shed. I've heard and read many stories of other women who have been through this, but it still feels so isolating, like I'm unmoored in a rowboat in the middle of the sea, paddles cast aside as the waves wash up and over me unbidden.
It feels at once necessary and histrionic to be grieving still. I want to talk about it, but I also know the burden is entirely ours. People don't know what to say, and I can't blame them. I try blaming myself, and it goes nowhere. I don't want to get out of bed in the morning, but I force it. Can't spend all day crying. Can't sit in stony silence hoping everything will stop to let this pass. Death comes to all of us eventually. Hearts break. Time supposedly heals. Life moves on.
I feel numb mostly. I've had a lot of bad days recently where unexpected things trigger me-- a post online where someone mentioned twins, a conversation about a coworker's granddaughter where she said something about wanting to be the grandma she never had, a thought that I still miss my Uncle John and Granny and Granda but don't feel as badly about it as when they died, though that just made me jealous that they got to spend time with it now and question whether it was even a baby at all since it died when it was only a cluster of cells. So early. With the doctor's office calling last Monday with the news that my hormone levels are back down to zero and to call when I wind up pregnant again, it's like it never happened at all.
I bought supplies last week to paint. I have plans for a memorial of sorts, though every time I think I know what I want to do, it doesn't seem right or to do it justice. I haven't painted in a long time, and I'm not sure I have the skills to execute what I want to do anyway. I don't know. It can't hurt to try, I guess. Some of the hardest parts of this have been not having anything tangible to point to other than tears cried and blood shed. I've heard and read many stories of other women who have been through this, but it still feels so isolating, like I'm unmoored in a rowboat in the middle of the sea, paddles cast aside as the waves wash up and over me unbidden.
It feels at once necessary and histrionic to be grieving still. I want to talk about it, but I also know the burden is entirely ours. People don't know what to say, and I can't blame them. I try blaming myself, and it goes nowhere. I don't want to get out of bed in the morning, but I force it. Can't spend all day crying. Can't sit in stony silence hoping everything will stop to let this pass. Death comes to all of us eventually. Hearts break. Time supposedly heals. Life moves on.
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