Category: Grief

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How Winter Kills

Like the snow in Metro Detroit, I’ve been in and out of everyday life. And like the snow, my mind should be ever present during this particular month, since it’s supposed to be the month of new beginnings; of making resolutions to change things.

But like the snow, I’ve only surfaced in bits in pieces whenever life seems to be most inconvenient.

This depression sucks.

No. I mean literally. It sucks the life and energy out of me. And throw in a (un)healthy dose of anxiety with it … well it just makes life all the more interesting.

I’m trying my best to move past this depression; doing all that I can physically and clinically do, but the weight of this sadness seems to be omnipresent.

Thank God for an understanding Husband; one who has stood by me through thick and thin. He’s been there through the low-hanging, non-anxiety moments and all the way through the high-octane drama-fueled moments. Sometimes I wonder – scratch that – I always wonder how I’ve managed to find my soulmate and my best friend who still loves me despite all the baggage I carry.

If anything, Hubby (and the furkids – although the fur-dog has been on my last nerve lately … ) is the reason why I keep getting out of bed every morning.

Even though I’ve written the occasional post about the grief I’ve been experiencing, I know I’m not usually so outright with my depression. But it has been suggested to me that I start writing more about it, because this seems to be the only outlet where I can openly talk about my struggles.

And although this blog is (and always will be) about living child-free after infertility, I thought that this was my little corner of the universe where I can tell you about my life, both good and bad. So here’s where I lay it out on the line:

  • I’m still grieving over the death of my father. Between my two parents, it’s become apparent to me over the past year and a half that I truly was a “Daddy’s Girl.” I thrived in the moments when my Dad would play around with me and tease me. And there were the silly jokes the two of us would play on each other that only the two of us would get. And I miss those things horribly.

 

  • In the same aspect, I realize how much different my relationship with my Mom has always been; particularly now that my Dad had passed. I’ve always known that we never had that “Mother-Daughter” bond that is constantly seen in movies and TV shows; we’re just two very different people. And without Dad being there as a buffer, this relationship has only intensified … and not always in a positive way.

 

  • Even though it’s been over a year since deciding to move back to Detroit, not a day goes by that I don’t miss living in Chicago. I miss the city and the atmosphere. I miss the late night trips to Dim Sum or Korean BBQ with my cousins. I miss walking.

 

  • But what I miss the most is that Chicago represented a new life for me. A life where Hubby & I carved out a place for ourselves; where the two of us really started focusing on us as a “Family of Two.” And while I love my hometown and take pride in telling people that I’m from Detroit, I miss that part of our lives where we were just far enough from “home” where Hubby & I could be our own family.

 

  • And finally … even though Hubby & I have decided that child-free living after infertility is our life, there are still those days where I worry about our future and what other things in our lives we can contribute to the greater good of our world. Will all I have to show at the end of my life is that I’ve worked hard for a living? That I loved my family and friends to the best capacity that I could? What about my legacy? What will I leave behind? And will I have made a difference in someone’s life? I know now that having kids won’t necessarily “satisfy” or provide answers to all of those questions, but having lost my Dad … and knowing the person he was … this is something that weighs heavily on mind.

 

I could probably go on with more “issues” that seem to run endlessly through my anxiety-ridden head, but these are the ones that are constantly in my stream of consciousness. These are the things that keep me from doing the things I would normally enjoy doing.

Like reading.

Or knitting.

Or taking pictures.

Or writing.

Or simply watching TV.

But I’m trying … at least I’ll try to work on the writing bit.

And maybe Mother Nature will be kind enough to work on a mild winter for the rest of us.

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Too Pieces

The day stretched on as if it were the longest day of summer; yet it was the middle of winter. It was only 4:30 pm, but dusk was around the corner; the clouds in the wintery sky making it seem darker than it should be.

She should be doing something to keep her mind busy; anything to take her thoughts off the shades of grief that lay inside the pit of her stomach. Instead, she sat at her local bookstore’s cafe mindlessly flipping through the latest gossip rags and fashion magazines.

Normally reading such things would entertain her; would make her laugh at such ridiculousness. Or at the very least, inspire her to change her wardrobe to something other than jeans and a t-shirt. But today, she neither felt nor heard nothing but the silent hum inside her head that told her that something about her was defective.

That silent hum had always lived inside of her for as long as she could remember. She never felt pretty enough or smart enough to accomplish anything significant in her life. And although she had a good career and an incredible husband, she never thought she could deserve to be happy.

At times in her life, the silent hum would surface outwardly. When she and her husband found it difficult to start their family, that hum became a silent roar. When she lost her job, the silent roar returned. However, eventually that roar would once again return to a hum.

She knew that her antsy-ness today was because that hum was slowly turning into a roar. She even knew her actions over Christmas was its root cause. But just like those other times, she had no idea how to silence the roar. She had no way of stopping such negative, self-defeating feelings that lay rooted inside of her.

Although she knew she had the support of her husband, her best friend in life … her family … she also knew she would ultimately be the one responsible for taming the beast inside herself.

She also knew that in order to tame the beast, she had to get rid of the hum all together. She had to stop depreciating herself and start to build up that self-esteem.

This will prove to be a difficult task for her; especially since she never particularly had consistent, ongoing self-confidence. Her entire life had been rooted in self-doubt with only fleeting moments of confidence. It would take a lot to rid her life of that silent hum.

What could she do? What *would* she do? She had already sought the help of professionals; she already had the support of her loving husband. The only thing she could do is uproot those thoughts of self-doubt and self-deprecation and replant confidence and self-esteem in its place.

It sounded simple enough; replace the negative with the positive. Believe that the glass is half-full rather than half-empty. Begin to believe in herself.

But why then, did it seem so much more complicated than that? Why does the silent hum persist?

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Grief Bacon

I love bacon.

There, I’ve said it. And I’m not ashamed to admit that the smell of bacon brings back memories of cooking breakfast for my parents when I was in my pre-teenage angst years. You know, back when I was a relatively obedient kid who only wanted to do something nice for her parents.

And the taste …. Oh, the taste! Nothing completes a great breakfast like bacon can. Especially those thick, maple-cured strips that they serve up at Original Pancake House.

I mean after all, there is the saying that nothing can make a vegetarian go pro-meat more than bacon can.

I’m guessing that with all this talk about bacon, you’ve figured out by now that I’m not the healthiest person in the world. And it’s true. I’m hypertensive. I’ve got high cholesterol (no surprise there!). And I’m at high risk for heart disease.

And given the events over the past year, I guess you can say that I’ve been lax at keeping myself healthy. In fact, you could probably say that I went the opposite of healthy. What can I say? I’m an emotional eater.

In fact, I’m not just that; I’m an emotional over-eater. When things get tough or stressful, not only do I munch on chips or chocolate or candy … I over-indulge myself with them. And because of that I’ve gained a significant amount of weight over the past year.

So what does this all have to do about bacon?

Yesterday, at one of Hubby’s work-related events, we had sat with some friends and another couple I had just met for the first time that night. Somehow (and I can’t exactly remember how) the subject turned to bacon. (I mean, really. When does bacon come up in a conversation?!) That’s when I learned that the German word kummerspeck … which is the excess weight one gains from emotional overeating … literally translates to “grief bacon.”

So there you go. Now I have a name for all the weight I’d gained.

But lest you’re worried, Hubby & I have been making efforts to regain our health. First off was joining a gym to make time for some weight training and daily cardio. Second is re-learning to eat healthy again. Third … and this is the most difficult … is maintaining the motivation to keep up with both.

I guess this means I won’t be eating too much bacon in the near future …

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Unsettled

It’s Thursday night. And even though I had the evening I had for myself (knowing that Hubby had prior obligations that kept him from staying in tonight), I find myself with nothing to do.

I had planned on knitting all evening, but didn’t feel motivated to do so. I had also planned on cleaning out the closet and dressers to donate more clothes to the Salvation Army; which I only partially finished. Then I tried my hand at playing some online games and didn’t quite feel myself get into the rhythm, so I just gave up. There’s nothing on TV and no new movies to watch on cable.

So here I sit with my laptop on and a blank page beckoning me to type some meaningful words into sentences and sentences into paragraphs. Yet I don’t know exactly what to say. Well, except maybe this:

It’s been a difficult year.

And yet as much as I’m trying to move forward with my life, I somehow can’t seem to take anything bigger than baby steps.

I struggle to remember if it was this hard to “get over” my failed IVF — the loss of a total of three “would-be” babies — as it is to “get over” the death of my father. The lines are so blurred these days. But I do know I’m in the same place that I was close to five years ago when I pretty much gave up hope of ever having biological children of my own.

Oh yes, I’m in that deep dark space below. And it sucks.

I’m not sure if these feelings are magnified because of an upcoming anniversary date this Saturday or not. What I do know is that this restless, unsettled feeling is very unnerving. And I wish it would just go away. But somehow I just know that it’s only going to get worse before it gets better.

So if you got a moment … and I truly don’t mean to be such a pity-party right now … but if you can spare a few seconds, could you say a quick prayer or a positive thought my way just so I can make it through the next few days? Because I could really use some bloggie love right about now.