I'd originally planned to throw one of these nuggets at you daily, but I'm finding the need to decompress for several days after each one. That whole bare-your-soul thing takes a lot out of you. Now you know.
Regardless, here we are with our next installment which we can, and hereafter, refer to as the bipolar aspect of the grieving parent. Please don't get offended. I'm really not trying to be comical and definitely not trying to mock people that struggle with this imbalance. I can honestly tell you I've searched the dark recesses of my mind...yes, it's pretty dark in there, I admit...and I can think of no better description than that. So that's my story, and I'm sticking to it.
I want to plant this thought in your brain but then basically leave you to ponder on the complete ramifications. There seems to be an unending supply of frustration, both for the griever and the one trying to support and encourage them. Examples will help explain better than definitions.
There are days/moments when I'm not thinking about Zoe and her death. There are subsequent moments/days when I think of little else. More frequently, these moments bounce back and forth at a rapid rate in any given 24 hr period. Here are some examples of my "illness."
Some days I cry a great deal. Other days I feel as if I'll never be able to shed another tear.
I love to talk about Zoe. It pains me a great deal to talk about Zoe.
I want you to remember and talk about Zoe. It's difficult for me to hear people talk about Zoe that didn't know her well.
I want to get out of the house. Getting out of the house feels like terrorist-level torture.
It's refreshing and reenergizing to shower and get ready for the day. Other days...or weeks..."Do I owe a brush? What's toothpaste for again?"
I want to get back in shape and healthy after eating strictly junk food for 3 months. I want to eat every sweet I can get my hands on. If it's got peanut butter, I'll eat it twice and then go bathe in chips and salsa.
I want to feel joy again. I want to be miserable.
Your concern is touching. Your concern makes me want to curl up into the fetal position.
I want to advocate for all the other little Zoe's out there. I don't want to ever talk or think about adoption again.
I want to adopt more children who need a family and are being passed over. (See previous flop to this flip!)
I want a hug. Please don't touch me.
Zane makes me crazy. Zane makes me happy. (I could write this a couple more times to really drive home this point!) :)
I want to spend a gazillion dollars to make a Zoe memorial in our backyard so I can go out there and ponder the deeper things in life. I'll rather just stay in bed and never think again.
I want to get the biggest monument in the cemetery. The size of the memorial doesn't prove anything to anybody so what's the point?
I want to go visit the cemetery and take flowers. I don't ever want to step foot in that place again.
I want to clean every square inch of the house. Just bulldoze the place.
Like I said, I go on ad nauseam. There really is an endless supply of contradictions running simultaneously through our brains and, often, out of our mouths. And no men, that is not just a female thing. (My darling hubby better not even try to deny he was not thinking the same thing.) Although you could take all this and A-Rod the whole deal and then you'll see it from the grieving female perspective.
So if it seems like you can't win as you try to encourage and support the grieving parent, you're right...but only half the time.
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