I woke up this morning in pain. So, what else is new?
Everything hurts. I did not go to church. I tried to call the youngest son to see if some of them would come and drive for me but no one answered the phones. I didn't even try Mike. He never gets up and I am tired of calling and calling to ask.
So, I didn't go.
My hand, arms, shoulders, knees, feet and legs hurt. Some is caused by my carrying Sarah a bit in the mall yesterday but the cold is the greatest contributor I suspect. This time of year is a nightmare for me. My hands are cold and my feet are cold, despite thick wool socks my sister bought for me. I can only imagine how cold they would feel without those!
I sleep in sweats and I've not even got dressed all day. Shoulders hurt when I try and reach up to get anything above shoulder height. My knees hurt when I walk. They feel like they are froze, too. Everything just feels stiff and locked up. Muscles in my calf and upper arms are sore.
I'm miserable and I hate this. I can't stand living like this. I can't do anything. My brain is in a constant fog. I'm always tired. I manage to get through my work day but I'm totally wiped out by 5 pm. I can't go anywhere and do anything for long. Once I sit down, I'm done.
I want Jerry to come and just sit next to me. I just want him to come home. I'm tired of this.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Survivors
Many of my readers have repeatedly said that they didn't know what to say to someone experiencing grief. My own situation has caused me to look at this in a different way and far deeper than I ever imagined I'd want or need. As I've become able to function more normally, I've found myself fascinated by a paradox.
A vast majority of people across all cultures believe that death takes that person to a better place. This is supposed to give comfort to those left behind. Honestly, it doesn't much. But if they've gone to a better place, it does leave the survivors alone in a hell not of their making. Those not affected by it simply stand on the edges, watching the struggle. The grief-stricken are left alone to claw their way back to the land of the living. For truly, a part of you has died and left to your own devices, you may very well die, too. I can tell you, I felt as if I were being pulled into the grave with Jerry. And nine months later, there are days I still do.
If the bereaved is not to blame for the death of the person, why does the rest of the world spend so much time making them feel they've done something wrong? People won't talk to you or listen to you. They barely speak when you approach them. They don't call or come around. Yet, if you stopped them and asked them, they'd automatically put it back on you, the bereaved with "Why didn't you tell me?" or "You should have called me."
There are things you need to know about these Survivors of death. The bereaved can barely walk for months. They don't see things right in front of them. I've run numerous traffic lights in the last seven months. I've probably run three in my entire 53 years, until now. I absolutely didn't see them. Ask Mike. He's been with me twice.
The bereaved can't remember what day it is. They don't remember if they paid the light bill. They don't remember if they went to the store, despite finding the milk in the laundry room. They forget to take medications. But they are expected to remember they need solace and call for it as if they were ordering pizza?
Rest assured, they have trouble remembering their address at this point. They won't remember your phone number or even your name at times. Particularly if you never bothered much anyway. I have a basket of small notes with phone numbers on them taken from the answering machine over months. Some don't have names on them. I knew who they were when I wrote it down....
I remember nothing but bits and pieces of the the first three months after Jerry died. Most of those have to do with times I fell apart and couldn't get up out of the floor. Or they were the trips I took out of town to be with people who could look after me for a while and pick me up out of the floor. Or they could make me not think about what was happening to my life. I remember trying to get ready for work one morning and suddenly, doubling over and screaming over and over, unable stand or to breath. I was only able to sob uncontrollably.
For two months after his death I was afraid to go to sleep at night. I was afraid I'd die in my sleep. It was horrible to even lie down and think about letting go so I could sleep. As a Christian, this is a terrible feeling. We aren't supposed to fear death! I don't know if it is normal. If other people feel that way, they don't tell it.
On top of that, the darkness is the best movie screen ever designed. Every scene is played back for you in living color. If you witnessed the death, as I did, you see it again, and again, and again. You hear the sounds they made in those last minutes. You see the empty eyes. Simple sounds take on new meanings. You see that last day over and over and wonder what you could have done differently that MIGHT had altered the course. Change one thing and everything changes.
Survivors, wondering if they had steered a bit more south they'd have missed the iceberg. Survivors, just like those committees who go over wreckage with a fine toothed comb, go over every detail of our lives and the death to discover what happened and if we could have stopped, slowed, reversed, prevented it all.
Most of us are left wondering, clinging to the wreckage, holding a shirt with the scent of a memory. We are Survivors and we're left with only questions.
A vast majority of people across all cultures believe that death takes that person to a better place. This is supposed to give comfort to those left behind. Honestly, it doesn't much. But if they've gone to a better place, it does leave the survivors alone in a hell not of their making. Those not affected by it simply stand on the edges, watching the struggle. The grief-stricken are left alone to claw their way back to the land of the living. For truly, a part of you has died and left to your own devices, you may very well die, too. I can tell you, I felt as if I were being pulled into the grave with Jerry. And nine months later, there are days I still do.
If the bereaved is not to blame for the death of the person, why does the rest of the world spend so much time making them feel they've done something wrong? People won't talk to you or listen to you. They barely speak when you approach them. They don't call or come around. Yet, if you stopped them and asked them, they'd automatically put it back on you, the bereaved with "Why didn't you tell me?" or "You should have called me."
There are things you need to know about these Survivors of death. The bereaved can barely walk for months. They don't see things right in front of them. I've run numerous traffic lights in the last seven months. I've probably run three in my entire 53 years, until now. I absolutely didn't see them. Ask Mike. He's been with me twice.
The bereaved can't remember what day it is. They don't remember if they paid the light bill. They don't remember if they went to the store, despite finding the milk in the laundry room. They forget to take medications. But they are expected to remember they need solace and call for it as if they were ordering pizza?
Rest assured, they have trouble remembering their address at this point. They won't remember your phone number or even your name at times. Particularly if you never bothered much anyway. I have a basket of small notes with phone numbers on them taken from the answering machine over months. Some don't have names on them. I knew who they were when I wrote it down....
I remember nothing but bits and pieces of the the first three months after Jerry died. Most of those have to do with times I fell apart and couldn't get up out of the floor. Or they were the trips I took out of town to be with people who could look after me for a while and pick me up out of the floor. Or they could make me not think about what was happening to my life. I remember trying to get ready for work one morning and suddenly, doubling over and screaming over and over, unable stand or to breath. I was only able to sob uncontrollably.
For two months after his death I was afraid to go to sleep at night. I was afraid I'd die in my sleep. It was horrible to even lie down and think about letting go so I could sleep. As a Christian, this is a terrible feeling. We aren't supposed to fear death! I don't know if it is normal. If other people feel that way, they don't tell it.
On top of that, the darkness is the best movie screen ever designed. Every scene is played back for you in living color. If you witnessed the death, as I did, you see it again, and again, and again. You hear the sounds they made in those last minutes. You see the empty eyes. Simple sounds take on new meanings. You see that last day over and over and wonder what you could have done differently that MIGHT had altered the course. Change one thing and everything changes.
Survivors, wondering if they had steered a bit more south they'd have missed the iceberg. Survivors, just like those committees who go over wreckage with a fine toothed comb, go over every detail of our lives and the death to discover what happened and if we could have stopped, slowed, reversed, prevented it all.
Most of us are left wondering, clinging to the wreckage, holding a shirt with the scent of a memory. We are Survivors and we're left with only questions.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Monday Morning Blahs
Been battling depression all weekend. I'm tired this morning and have to get out of here to work shortly. I wanted to try and write a post before I left. It is on of those days when I just want to go to bed and stay there for the day. Gloomy skies right now but could be because the sun hasn't really got past the horizon yet. It is 7:15 but my weather monitor says it is supposed to be sunny today.
Anyway, I'm off the the mines to dig. I really will be glad when I have a couple of weeks vacation built up. Thankfully, November has three days free ones coming up so maybe I can hold out until then. I hope so. In 19 days Nano starts and I'm no where near ready.
If you all wouldn't mind, say a prayer for me today. I did get to church twice yesterday but it was really hard to sit through it last night. And coming home is always so difficult. I have to stay occupied until I'm so tired I can't stay awake and then I went to bed and had flash backs there in the dark. I hate those. Waking nightmares, that's what they are. Anyway, they tend to drag me down pretty quickly.
Anyway, I'm off the the mines to dig. I really will be glad when I have a couple of weeks vacation built up. Thankfully, November has three days free ones coming up so maybe I can hold out until then. I hope so. In 19 days Nano starts and I'm no where near ready.
If you all wouldn't mind, say a prayer for me today. I did get to church twice yesterday but it was really hard to sit through it last night. And coming home is always so difficult. I have to stay occupied until I'm so tired I can't stay awake and then I went to bed and had flash backs there in the dark. I hate those. Waking nightmares, that's what they are. Anyway, they tend to drag me down pretty quickly.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Small Joys
Surprises come in many places and things. Life is often filled with one sort of surprise or another and a good many are not good surprises. But it is the little things that often bring the greatest pleasure and warm our hearts.
Today was another busy day at work and one thing after another until you begin to feel like one of those ducks in the shooting gallery. Back and forth with some rube taking potshots at you. I'm so tired. And to end the day there were problems with something they need for the computer changes we are making that I can't deliver and I told the person last week what we needed and she did nothing to get that information. And she took two days off this week knowing she didn't have it. So, I gladly left it until tomorrow when she will return. I suggested that the person heading all this up, the Director of Capital Funds, a man with no personality or tact, speak with her about it. {SMILE}
I came home dragging my feet. I got my mail, unlocked my door and sat down my bags. Junk mail from the credit card industry, sale paper, and a small card..... a postcard. I like postcards. Somehow they just feel special and exotic to me. Someone picks them out specially for you and thinks about you as they pay for it and as they post it. That's special.
This one has a photo of some interesting old stone buildings... at least some of them look like old buildings but they're well cared for. It is a bright sunny day on a city plaza in some faraway place. There are tall chimneys and church spires. I flipped it over and read and smiled. And that lovely warm feeling that good surprises give you spread through my soul and the day's troubles fell away.
I have such lovely friends in far away places. Thank you, Jilly, for thinking of me.
Today was another busy day at work and one thing after another until you begin to feel like one of those ducks in the shooting gallery. Back and forth with some rube taking potshots at you. I'm so tired. And to end the day there were problems with something they need for the computer changes we are making that I can't deliver and I told the person last week what we needed and she did nothing to get that information. And she took two days off this week knowing she didn't have it. So, I gladly left it until tomorrow when she will return. I suggested that the person heading all this up, the Director of Capital Funds, a man with no personality or tact, speak with her about it. {SMILE}
I came home dragging my feet. I got my mail, unlocked my door and sat down my bags. Junk mail from the credit card industry, sale paper, and a small card..... a postcard. I like postcards. Somehow they just feel special and exotic to me. Someone picks them out specially for you and thinks about you as they pay for it and as they post it. That's special.
This one has a photo of some interesting old stone buildings... at least some of them look like old buildings but they're well cared for. It is a bright sunny day on a city plaza in some faraway place. There are tall chimneys and church spires. I flipped it over and read and smiled. And that lovely warm feeling that good surprises give you spread through my soul and the day's troubles fell away.
I have such lovely friends in far away places. Thank you, Jilly, for thinking of me.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Sunny Monday
Woke to a very beautiful day but it is just too cool to my liking. I want warm sunshine, not the refridgerated stuff. Pain is fairly high as a result of the cold. I no longer have Jerry's warmth to shelter me at night and so I've had to put blankets on the bed and wear woolen socks. I still just get so cold.
I don't want to turn the heat up too high but I don't see how I'll manage if I can't get it regulated at night. We always turn the heat back at night and it was fine but I see now that it probably won't be anymore.
I've going home to night and work on that kitchen floor. I would like to have a couple of things taken care of before Thursday night. The house is presentable... more or less. At least the room we will be using is. LOL, and the kitchen will be better when I'm done. It really is a wreck.
I don't want to work today. I hate days like that where you have to be here but you'd rather be somewhere else. My stomach is a bit grumpy for some reason. I didn't want lunch.
One of the members of our writing group has that terrible cold and says they've told her she has pneumonia. I hope she can join us.I wonder... I could set up a webcam if I had a router for the internet and she could join in virtually.... Hmmmmm. Have to check that out.
Well, back to the mines for now. I don't know if I will be on tonight or not. Lots to do after I get home. If not, I'll see you all later.
My next video blog will be the grand tour of the house. I told you guys I was going to do it. I took my computer all over the house and filmed the rooms. I may borrow Becca's camera and do a video instead. Have to see. Anyway, tour coming.
So far, people have responded well to my hair curling video. Everyone seems to have gotten a laugh from it and that's good. 'Specially since the follow up video has me looking gorgeous.
I don't want to turn the heat up too high but I don't see how I'll manage if I can't get it regulated at night. We always turn the heat back at night and it was fine but I see now that it probably won't be anymore.
I've going home to night and work on that kitchen floor. I would like to have a couple of things taken care of before Thursday night. The house is presentable... more or less. At least the room we will be using is. LOL, and the kitchen will be better when I'm done. It really is a wreck.
I don't want to work today. I hate days like that where you have to be here but you'd rather be somewhere else. My stomach is a bit grumpy for some reason. I didn't want lunch.
One of the members of our writing group has that terrible cold and says they've told her she has pneumonia. I hope she can join us.I wonder... I could set up a webcam if I had a router for the internet and she could join in virtually.... Hmmmmm. Have to check that out.
Well, back to the mines for now. I don't know if I will be on tonight or not. Lots to do after I get home. If not, I'll see you all later.
My next video blog will be the grand tour of the house. I told you guys I was going to do it. I took my computer all over the house and filmed the rooms. I may borrow Becca's camera and do a video instead. Have to see. Anyway, tour coming.
So far, people have responded well to my hair curling video. Everyone seems to have gotten a laugh from it and that's good. 'Specially since the follow up video has me looking gorgeous.
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