May 23, 2006

    
     For the last five months, our Sunday Family Dinner has been a joke. Of the five kids that could be here, there are usually only three or four. Only every six weeks or so do all five make it, and then I wonder if it was such a good idea after all. We don’t fight—i­t h­­asn’t­ come to that…yet. But we also don’t enjoy each other, either.

     Last year Nett and Jeremy each told me (independently) that they noticed a growing distance between us and that we needed to start getting together for weekly dinners the way we did before Steve died. I had all but forgotten our tradition. After talking it over with Dave, we decided to set aside every Sunday for “Family Dinner”. Jeremy wanted Friday, but Dave’s usually too blown out from the workweek by the time he gets home on Friday that all he wants to do is rest. Sunday works better for most us.

     Amy and Jeremy usually go out with church friends on Sundays, or are too tired from their responsibilities at church to go anywhere, leaving us with the resentful feeling that we’ve been replaced by their “new family”. Instead of drawing us closer, this renewed tradition is expanding the rift, turning family dinner into an evening of bitter speculation about what could be keeping them away.

     I asked my kids to leave it alone, hoping if we just ignore it, this will soon pass. Instead, what Nick ignored was my request. He took this grievance to Jeremy. The shit hit the fan. Now the proverbial family walls are a distinctive shade of brown.

     It stinks and it hurts, but now that we can all see the mess maybe we can all start working together to clean it up.

{P.S. I just have to say here, from 2012, that I am so happy these days are far behind us and we are a real family again. We still have our problems, few families don't. But all in all, we do enjoy each others' company now. Maybe this is why it took me six months to get back to blogging. Somehow I feel disloyal to my family bringing these things up again. And the pain becomes fresh again. But this is where we were at that time. Where we are now been built on these tough times. And I believe we are stronger because of it. Like the old saying goes...What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. And since we're still breathing, I guess that means we are, indeed, stronger.}

Finding My Way Back

After losing my way in the blogosphere for a while, I’ve been encouraged by my daughters to get back to it. I’m sorry this has taken so long. I do miss the process and the people I’ve met through blogging. Next time I feel lost—because I know I will, with all of the changes taking place and the new ways of connecting—I’ll reach out and ask questions! Thanks for your patience.

Still looking forward…

Deb

May 6, 2006 ~

           

 Three days ago my back seized up in a massive spasm. The pain was like an iron hand clutching my muscles, holding me in place. After calling Kaiser to make me an Urgent Care appointment Dave pulled me into a standing position and patiently supported me as I took baby steps to the car.

 By the luck of the draw I was assigned an Osteopath. As he adjusted my back, the doctor asked,

 “Have you been under any unusual stress lately?”

Dave and I chuckled.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Our family’s been going through some tough times.” I said with a little explanation.

“If you don’t figure out a way to relax this is going to happen again and again” the doctor warned me.

He gave me an injection for the pain, to be followed by a week of muscle relaxants and a strong suggestion to take the week off. Thanks to the muscle relaxants the spasm is almost gone.

This week I keep bouncing between feeling “all is well in my world” and feeling depressed, near tears, and like I’m facing the end of life as know it. If I would just stick with the things that fuel me (prayer, bible study, meditation, exercise and stay off the sugar) it will go a long way in relieving this stress but it’s so hard to get back on track and stick with it!



April 16, 2006

 I’m soooo tired and I don’t know why. I want to sleep all of the time but when my head nestles into a pillow, any pillow, sleep turns to laugh at me and flees! I’m numb. I drag myself out of bed in  the morning and my first thought is always, “Can I take a nap today?”

When I lie down to sleep my mind takes that as a cue to start a trip without my body. I don’t want to follow. My mind takes me places I don’t want to return to. It tries to hold me in that hot room in July 2003. It sits me at Steve’s bedside forcing me to look at his still, pale face. It sings Enya’s Orinoco Flow as I try to look away. Sail away, sail away. My mind tries to keep me slogging through the mire, pinning my arms to my sides, trying to convince me they will never again be lifted in joy.

I’m tired of stumbling down that dark path. I want to find the path that’s bathed in sunshine, warming my heart. But instead when I go to bed at night I lie awake in the darkness, in darkness. My days are run on auto-pilot.

And again I’m fighting a cold, making me even more exhausted.

I’m missing Steve more and more. I don’t know which comes first...missing Steve makes me feel down or feeling down makes me miss Steve more.

Oh, well. I’m going to miss him no matter what.

April 15, 2006

All day long I’d been pacing around the house trying to keep myself busy, yet unable to concentrate on anything. All I could think about was escape. I felt a strong pull to just get out of here…but to where…and from what? I feel as though I'm trapped in an alternate reality of my own life.

 Late in the afternoon I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed my purse and keys and  lurched toward the van, destinations shooting through my mind…Jane’s house, the beach, Palm Springs. I didn’t know until the main road came into view that there was only one place for me to go. I drove the half mile to Nick’s.

He was surprised to find me at his door but, seeing my distress, he led me to the sofa where uncontrollable sobs wracked me. Suddenly we found our roles reversed. Nick, whom I held and comforted when he was a small child, now held me in his strong arms and let me cry my full.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me!”
 “Mom, you’re depressed.”
 “I’m not depressed!” I cried.

 But I know it’s true. I’ve been lying to myself as I steadily sink into this pit. I’ve believed I could reorient myself, find my own way out through prayer and meditation. But I’m only sinking further every day. I don’t know if this is grief related, or the clinical depression I’ve struggled with in the past, or if it’s a result of our family strife.

“You need to call your doctor, Mom. It’s time to get help and you know it.”
 “They’ll want to put me back on meds. I hate the way they make me feel. Like a zombie.”
 “Even feeling like a zombie for a little while would probably be better than feeling like this all the time. Right?”
 “I suppose. But, am I ever going to feel normal again?”
Nick didn’t have an answer for that.

He’s right. It doesn’t matter what’s causing the depression. I have to get help, even if it means feeling flat for a time.

Tonight I feel spent and still lost, but no longer agitated.
However I'm left wondering… when will I feel normal again?