Sunday, August 15, 2010

You have got to be kidding me...

There is no greater joy in all the world than a Saturday afternoon spent watching my spirited son sword fight his way through Chuck-e-Cheese while I savor the unrivaled culinary delights of an everything pizza, thin crust. Sarcasm, my friends. Sarcasm.

I hate Chuck-e-Cheese. Heidi, if you are reading this, I love you, love Paul, love your friends and family, hate Chuck-e-Cheese. In fact, my willingness to drive 60 miles to spend the afternoon in a circle of hell with you, is evidence of my tremendous affection. And, of Iain's love for his friends. And, of my love for Iain.

Unfortunately, I left the party with tremendous abdominal pain, indigestion, and cold sweats. If only it were food poisoning.

This has been an awful season for me. My life is like a tire with a slow leak. I have no idea when i ran over the nail, and I didn't notice the leak until the tire was so flat I could no longer drive. Sure, there have been signs of a problem. For two months I fell asleep every night at 8pm and woke up at 3:30am. For the next two months, I used my insomnia as an excuse to catch up on every Showtime and HBO show produced in the past decade. I stopped exercising. I gained weight. I passed up social invitations. I stopped seeing friends. I quit getting pedicures. I started having chest pain. I obsessed over possible catastrophic illnesses I might be suffering from. I canceled travel plans. I felt sad. I felt lightheaded. And now, I'm angry all the time.

You're thinking hypothyroid, right? Well, maybe. But now I have another possible culprit - delayed grief. You have got to be kidding me...

On Saturday, in my 5th circle of hell, I met a woman whose husband had died when she was pregnant with her son. As she relayed her experience to me and explained the delayed grief she encountered 6 years after his death, I felt my chest begin to tighten and my mind begin to shut down. I knew that I needed to hear what she had to say, but I desperately wanted to get the hell out of there. Not this. Not again. I was done!

The idea that I might have more grieving to do is exhausting, infuriating, embarrassing. I'm strong. I'm resilient. I'm capable. I'm a testimony to God's grace. That might have been me two years ago, but if I really am suffering delayed grief, then it was all a sham, a neatly wound cocoon everyone thought was surrounding a butterfly instead of an ugly old silkworm moth that can't even fly.

I'm still going to get the thyroid checked. It's on tomorrow's agenda, and a thyroid disorder would probably be much easier to fix than trying to connect with my grieving soul. Either way, something has to change. I don't like waking up angry, being irritated by everything my son does, feeling hopeless, anxious, unable to breathe. I hate panic attacks and I hate feeling blah.

As an aside, this wasn't what I would have planned as a kickoff post for the spunky, spirited blog of a widow boldly plowing through life with a take no prisoners sort of attitude, but I guess that one may have to wait until next time. Until then...


Blogger joanna said...

That WAS a spunky spirited post of a woman forging boldly through life...keep writing. At least I'll get to hear how you are and you're amazing at it! Let me know about what happens at the doctor...

7:22 AM  
Blogger Staci said...

Thinking of you, Tricia. Thank you for telling it like it is. And by the way, you are a truly excellent writer. I was reading a slew of your old blogs and it kept running through my mind that it should be a book. Your honesty is stunning and your words very visceral.

8:35 PM  
Blogger mendacious said...

either way, well said.

words are a force.

9:56 PM  
Blogger Amy The Writer said...

The best thing you can be is honest. It inspires other people. Welcome back to blogging, I've missed you, and I'm keeping you in my prayers.

8:15 PM  
Anonymous Viola said...

Hi Tricia,
You probably don't remember me, but my husband Dennis passed away in June 2007 of a 13 mo battle with Esophagael Cancer and leaving me to be the only parent to Savannah who was 2 at the time. Wow, how time flies, "Savy", is now 5 and in kindergarten and we are just going through life. I'm so glad to have found your blog again. You've given me inspiration to blog also.
I pray that things turn around soon for you and all us other widows with young children. God bless, Viola

11:28 PM  

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