Is this coping? I suppose it is, but I feel somewhat odd. The first week had a few crying spells, but mostly I felt very numb and robotic. There were things to do. Things to take care of. Then the event itself. I got through it, all without any major emotional breakdowns. It was weird. I felt a bit out of body then. Out of sorts. Wired funny. But I had tasks that only I could get done, so I had to just step up to them. I thought I would cry on the way back to where we were staying after it was all done. It trickled a bit. Still no breakdown. That night I slept fitful. Insomnia. Drifting dreams, so I must have dozed, at least. My youngest had nightmares. I sat up with him. Got to sleep finally at 4:30am. Slept till 10. Got up, and got on with that day. We were still not home, and there were things to be done. Did them. Robot mode still. Drove home. I tried to read, and I couldn’t. I can’t concentrate on my books for hours like I did. One escape route blocked. It makes me feel frustrated. I NEED my books!! I can manage to concentrate on word games though, weirdly enough. Timed ones, at that. I zone out….
Sunday, I woke up after a 15 hour sleep. I didn’t even take a sleep aid the night before. I woke up like I never slept. So weary. So teary. This day….one week after the fact….I finally wept. And couldn’t seem to stop. So I slept. Most of the day I felt weak, exhausted, and so profoundly sad.
Monday, yesterday, I felt a bit more normal. The routine of getting ready for school helped. I tackled my massive mountain of laundry finally. I didn’t feel like cooking, so I made chicken pies. The frozen kind. My mom loved those this last year because they were an easy thing to make for herself. The stupid pies made me cry. Then I was ok for a while again.
For the last few days I have been weird. Even to myself. I feel like I am another person, or something. Very me in the things I still do, but in overdrive (like Olivia and Olivia…if you watch Fringe you get that). Gorging on things that gave me joy before. Trying very hard to derive some out of them. Marathons of “Fringe”on Netflix….one of my favourite shows, watched again for the second time, but they all feel new again. Episode after episode. Then there are the X-Men marathons in between. And music….but not mellow anything. Loud, and rebellious stuff. Lots of Zeppelin, and AC/DC. Trying to drown out feeling anything close to mellow, or thoughtful. Because I dread…or KNOW on some innate level…that if I play the softer stuff, I will drift somewhere I don’t want to be. I will fall into the abyss of deep sadness.
I have been doing other wacky things all week….for instance, I dyed my hair a deep dark cherry red. On a whim. It has been that color before, but I was really liking the blonde/honey brown ombre I had it all summer. I liked the red for a day. Then I hated it for a few days. Now I kind of like it again, although I still miss the blonde. I seem to be just doing random things. I sat down for 6 hours the day before the funeral, and forged myself a steel wire necklace and bracelet. 6 hours straight. My fingers hurt from doing it. Not beading, but wirework….so I could hammer. Let out frustration, and who knows what else. I also needed to feel accomplished, maybe. And I did. I haven’t made any jewelry since I shut my shop down in April. It felt good. Even if I did do it in a strange robotic way.
I don’t know how to feel a lot of the day. I feel the tears brewing just below the surface constantly. I don’t WANT to cry ALL the time. So I distract myself, I suppose. I didn’t feel like cooking all last week or the last couple of days. Today…I made my homemade baked mac & cheese, and my Mom’s baked/steamed chicken….both are favourites of the boys, and of mine. I just had a craving for both. Comfort food, no doubt. But I felt this weird energetic compulsion to cook. I don’t know how much I will be able to eat, since my appetite is near zero these days. I eat because I have to. I saw what happened when my Mom wouldn’t/couldn’t eat anymore. So I make myself. I barely taste anymore, though…
I feel body snatched. Who is this person? Quick to anger, too. I hate that. Then I feel crappy that I snapped at whoever and apologize profusely. Then cry. Then am alright for a while. Some days I want to sleep all day, others….can’t get enough activity. I suppose it is all normal, on some level. It is grieving. Everyone handles it differently. I have never lost a parent before. Nobody knows how they will handle it, until it actually happens. You can imagine all you want, but it is never enough. Nothing can prepare you….really. She was ill a LONG time, and I knew it was coming, like a train track missing over a ravine, and you know it is there, but the train is a runaway, and you can’t get off. I have used that analogy before. It applies to a few things in life, methinks…..
Rambling on. I know. I feel so dazed and spaced out most of the time. Like I’m not really here. Writing it out was another manifestation I was feeling compelled to do.
Now that it is done, and the words out of my brain…maybe I can finally read again. Or at least finish the next 4 seasons of Fringe within the week, if not….. 😐