I’ve been living and breathing in isolation. This is going to be a horribly difficult month… I can’t even wrap my head around it. This month includes the happiest and saddest days of my life. November 11th is our wedding anniversary. It’ll mark four years of marriage. But last November, the happiest day of my life was overshadowed by grief. Just two days after celebrating our wedding anniversary, on November 13, 2008 is when we found out that our daughter Riley had severe hydrocephalus. On November 20, 2008, she left us for heaven.
One year later, I don’t know how to deal. It’s been a year! I’ve come far and have learned to live day by day. There are days and sometimes weeks now where I feel almost “normal.” There are moments when I think that I’m actually happy. Then the next moment, I wonder how I could have the audacity to think that. How can I be happy when my daughter died? Am I entitled to be happy?
I don’t want to feel the raw emotions again. The intense sadness and pain I felt in the days, weeks, and months that followed Riley’s death. I don’t want to go there again. I don’t want to feel so hopeless again. I don’t want to feel the pain. I don’t want to be happy and then again, I don’t want to be sad. So, how have I been dealing with all these conflicted feelings?
I’ve been isolating myself. I go to work and try my best to stay clear of co-workers. Restroom breaks scheduled around times when people are not around. This has been very easy to do since 2 of my co-workers announced that they were expecting. Now I try not to drink water so that I don’t have to go to the restroom at all.
I’ve been reluctant about phone calls, emails, and visits. I’m paranoid that they’re all going to tell me that they’re pregnant. If I don’t read it or hear it, maybe I won’t have to deal with my inability to conceive when I feel like it.
I’ve isolated myself from my husband. I’ve been avoiding talking about our wedding anniversary – because I don’t really feel like doing anything at all. I’ve avoided talking about Riley’s Angel Day – I don’t know what to do on her day. Nothing seems significant enough. Nothing seems right. What could I possibly do on her day that would be good enough? I’ve avoided all affection, hugs, and kisses. I don’t feel like I deserve it.
I’ve isolated myself from my support group. I’m so tired of telling my story. I feel like I’ve been carrying my grief around for a million years when in fact, it has only been one.
I’ve isolated myself from all feelings. I live in a world void of any emotion if I can help it. Ambivalence has been my constant companion. I’m afraid that if I allow a little bit in, the floodgates will open and I’ll find myself in the eye of the storm again. Can my heart go through any more grief? I don’t think that it’ll mend again.
I don’t care about being healthy mentally or physically. I just want to say fuck it all. I want to lie on the couch and watch mind-numbing reality t.v. and not feel a single thing. I don’t want to check my blood sugar or take my medication. I don’t want to do anything.
Unfortunately, the tears, the sadness, the pain, the anger, the confusion, the hopelessness of losing my daughter is seeping through the rock solid wall that I’ve put up. It’s coming again.. stronger than ever. I can’t do this.. I can’t do this.. I can’t think about Riley and feel the pain again.. I just can’t do it. Yet, it wouldn’t be right not acknowledging the life of my daughter who meant so much to us… a little soul who brought joy to us for 5 months. My daughter who I never got to meet but whose life has made me who I am.
Shit.. I’m here again. I’m completely devastated with no answers to my questions.