xeryfyn's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Dark Days It's late and I shouldnt be starting this right now, but it is time that I sat down and put all the thoughts that are keeping me awake at nights down where I can see them for what they are. Today we went to playschool. It is the first time we have been back in two weeks. On the last Friday we were there, our teacher was smiling and brilliant and alive . She sung the songs that Julia hums in the bathtub and did the actions that Julia manipulates Elena's pudgy fingers to copy. She put together crafts that now hang on my refrigerator door and poured the snack juice into the same sippy cup that sits next to me as I type this now. Two days later I got a call that she had passed away. Of something that we may never know named and may never get answers for. Mrs.Pauline may have only stepped into my life for a short period of time, but the impact this has had on me has been overwhelming. She was a mother, a wife, a teacher, a friend, a daughter. She was young and vibrant, loved singing and children and scrapbooking. She could have been me. I dont know if it was this particular thing that has sent me over the PPD edge that I was teetering on, but things have kind of spiralled out of control a bit. I guess I have projected a number of things onto her death--she had a number of similar health challenges that Sarah had before she passed away and when I discvered that fact, I had joined the two of them in my mind. To lose them both suddenly, without goodbyes and without answers for the many questions that arise afterwards: the whys and what ifs and, most importantly, how come I didnt notice what was wrong when I saw her last?? Both women touched my life within hours of becoming so gravely ill that it resulted in death and though one was of suicide and the other of some unknown virus, the fact remains that they were both already on their way to dying when I was there. I know that there is no recourse, no way of knowing what lay ahead for either of them and that there should be comfort in knowing that perhaps they are in a better place then they were when they left our lives. But I still hurt. It's been 7 years of trying to get over Sarah's death and I am slowly coming to realize that perhaps I am not going to "get over it" that the pain will never really "go away" or that I will "forget". Because just as I think that I am, something like this happens and boom it is all back again. Still, I cope with how I feel about Sarah because I have other things that keep me tied to this here and this now. The breaking point came in fractures and splinters, as breaking points often do. It is rare that bones break in a clean way. I had been half-heartedly typing my quickly unravelling novel and slowly being driven insane by my lovely children. Elena decided it was time to enter into another growth spurt and that cluster feeding around the clock might be a nice thing to do. Julia, at the same, time, not wanting to get left behind, upped her drama queen tactics, throwing more elaborate, highly annoying temper tantrums. Dwayne, bless his oblivious heart, drifted in and out of those hazy days, caught in the work and sleep cycle that I only have fond and fading recollections of. Until I went ballsitic. Yes, I yelled at my children. Yes, I believe I spanked Julia for pouring juice deliberately on the floor. Yes, I told Dwayne to take both of my children out of my sight if he knew what was good for everyone involved. And he did. And I threw things and cried and raged until I was exhausted. I felt frightened and out of control. I asked him later, when I had a bit more perspective, whether or not he had actually fed Julia a full meal that day. I had given her some things to eat here and there, some cheese, a few crackers and apple, some juice, but I sure hadnt been putting full meals on the table. And he hadnt, of course. The full weight of that black dog descended on me. What kind of mother was I? Terrible! Who would forget to put full meals on the table? No wonder she was so ornery. I cried. A lot. But nothing to be done by dwelling on things, better to come up with a plan. A schedule. Something that I can learn to do by rote and requiring little energy, so that the days that I have only the barest of reserves to call upon, there would still be something in place. And things are better than they were. I can wake up each morning with some idea of what I want to get out of my day and my children seem happier and more easily manageable. Oh, and I have a doctor's appointment. And reading this , makes me feel like I am capable of facing all the demons and makes me feel like even with all that I have forgotten about and need to deal with in the coming days, I am still a good mother, a good wife, a good teacher, a good friend, and a good daughter. The measure of my worth isnt by word count (my emotional mess leaving NaNo quite by the wayside) or holiday get-togethers or meal plans. And no matter how hard it will be to slog through the issues and face them for what they are, I can do it. 12:44 a.m. - 2004-11-20 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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