Pretty sure most of you are now just opening the post just to try and make sense of my off-the-wall titles! HA! Love it. Ok...you got me...I'm not getting out much these days.
I started this post the day after my last post, 9/17! Let's just say, Elvis has left the building. But he definitely did NOT take me with him. I've been here. At home. Listening to weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth...through a monitor. Yea. Zane's not a fan of NOT being in charge, but that's for a later blog post. For now, that's my story, and I'm sticking to it. Just cut me some slack.
How 'bout we jump right in, shall we?
Confession #6: I have realized that it's difficult for me to get very emotional about anything other than Zoe's death and the hole she left in our family. This may sound similar to the 1st confession where I shared it was hard for me to feel compassion for those struggling with non-life/death issues. However, it is different from many angles. I'll just share the most notable. Primarily, I'm referring to things that actually hit very close to home, yet fail to draw from my overly taxed core of emotions.
I'm sure you'd all understand the phrase, "I just can't cry anymore!" or "I'm all cried out." Typically when someone uses these words, it's to indicate a worn out and weary soul...too exhausted or mentally and emotionally taxed, to exhibit one more shred of emotion. That's basically what I'm referring too. The only difference is...I'm still crying every day...but just about Zoe. I can honestly tell you that it's not a conscious refusal to get emotional about anyone or anything else. It's more like...I can't. Almost like my body's coping mechanism. For those of us non-emotional types, the fact that we're suddenly thrust into a constant state of frailty in regard to our emotions, is completely exhausting. We're not sure how the rest of you "sappy Susie's" (shout out to my in'law's...hee hee) make it through the day!! :) My new reality that any sound, word, show, toy, person, trip, dress, or (fill in the blank) could shove me over the emotional cliff with no fair warning, makes me so weary that I can only presume my body is storing up for the next onslaught.
I WANT to show emotion sometimes, (I know, right?!?) if for no other reason than to communicate my sincere concern and heartache for situations that truly are heartbreaking. But it just won't come.
Let's circle the wagons.
Almost 2 months after Zoe died, we received word that Chris' grandfather, "Grand Pap," passed away. Chris had been hunting with his own dad and all his family since he was 10 years old. It's not been that long since Mamaw, his wife, passed away as well. Even though we had only been to West Virginia a handful of times with our kids, we all have such sweet and pleasant memories of both of them. I was so heartbroken for all of Chris' family, and our own, but I'm sure I did not communicate that well at all. Nothing would come.
The following Monday, I had to have surgery for an issue that was a couple years in the making. Very few people even knew anything about it. (No, I'm not going into detail...not the point.) It's no surprise that I had already postponed the surgery 5 times this year due to the adoption and all the complications with Zoe's health care...so there was no procrastination left. The week following was one of the most difficult I've experienced myself. But still...nada.
That Friday, 5 days later, our dog was hit and killed by a car on a busy road a couple miles from our house while we were at some friend's house for dinner. The circumstances and story were sketchy as described to me the next day, but the reality was the same. No more Tucker. Believe it or not, this was our 2nd dog to be struck by a car and killed. The 1st one was Cooper, a bishon yorkie, that was killed on Ty's birthday 2 years before. We'd gotten our golden retriever, Tucker, on Ty's birthday last year to ease that pain a bit. Yet, now we have a repeat performance...and still, as much as I ached for my family, I found it difficult to engage my heart.
Roughly 1.5 months later, some routine labs for myself led my doc to call me in for a follow-up visit to discuss some concerns. Two days later, I had a nice little nap inside a MRI machine...for real, I totally fell asleep...as I was being checked for a brain tumor and the like. We're still working through all the particulars, and the smart people are figuring all that out, but let me say in my best Arnold voice, "It's not a tumor!" (HAHA! Name that movie...GO! I should give a prize...but I won't...so forget the contest I was about to throw out there.) You should all know that there's never anything normal about Eva...no use starting now! Anyway, the night before the MRI, Chris asked me if I was scared. My only response was, "About what? It is what it is." I just...got nothing left. What's the point of getting all worked up about it? As if.
That's when I realized...oh crud...my feeler's broke. Help...I've fallen, and I can't get up! :)
So just remember...when you encounter someone who's still weathering the devastating storm of losing a child or whatever...their feeler might be broken and in need of repair. They truly do care. Just try to be patient. It's a pretty remote area, and sometimes it takes quite a long time to get someone out there to fix it. Think of the cable guy...on steroids.
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