Once I got the glimpse I had one flashback, then another, and still another. Before I knew it I was in a quiet room sobbing; tears streaming down my face.
And it continued.
For a long time.
Grieving is such a difficult and messy business. I thank the Goddess that I was alone at work tonight. I'm just not ready to be around people yet. I'm not because I do not want to answer the inevitable questions about what happened, how am I coping, and to hear how sorry they are for my loss. I realize that these questions are coming from a true place of compassion and that means a lot to me; but I'm not ready yet.
Dino had a hard time tonight too. It was the first time we had been separated for an extended period of time since Monday. He told me he was crying in a test message. We were sendinga lot of texts during the evening just to check in and stay connected, albeit through cyberspace.
As I sit here I am thinking too about my baby boy who is hanging out on the chair next to the bed. The chair is covered with an old sheet. It was a fort that Dino made for the kids. Under the chair is just another fort to hang out in, the top is the loft. Sometimes Lars just likes to sit on the roof of the loft instead of inside, like he is right now.
He has had his moments of deep depression tonight while I was at work. Dino spent a lot of time with him while he was in the loft, talking to him, loving him, even crooning to him; all as a way to show his love as Lars tries to cope with the loss of his sister.
He has just come up on the bed and is laying across my legs.
I'm worry about him. I weighted him before I went to work and again when I got home because I noticed when we were playing "stick" that he was thin around his hips just like Sylvia had gotten near then end. The though of losing him too scares me deeply. I can't image a life without my kids. That was part of what set me off at work too beside the fact that I would not see my girl when I got home.
Grief is so all pervasive.
It's seeps slowly into your bones becoming one with the marrow.
I can feel it there; becoming one with both my body and my soul.
This is the first time that I have lost someone so integral to my life this far into my recovery. There is something to be said for being present in my body but not when I'm grieving so intensely. My therapist suggested the unthinkable; that I should stay in my head more often. I was, well, flabbergasted that he suggested that. We have spent so much time trying to do just the opposite. Jettisoning myself from my body was how I coped with the abuse and getting me back in there has been excruciatingly difficult; mostly because my abuse memories come with. Issues in the tissues is how my yoga teacher calls it. And I have a lot of them. If I were to tally all of the memories I have recovered by counting the minutes of each experience I would have to say I have probably recovered maybe about 2 hours off actual memories out of 4 years worth of abuse. Being in my head was my escape then and it is my default place now even though I try my best not to go there. What I am realizing as each minute passes is that my grief and pain seems to follow me even into my default place.
So much for being in my head, eh doc.
I have to ask myself, what good does it do to hide from the pain anyways? It will just bubble up in other somatic ways anyhow.
This is the paradox of grieving for me.
There really is no where for me to hide.
And in an odd way I guess I'm OK with that.
Well it's bedtime.
Lars is already asleep and so should I, especially since I have to be up for work in, oh, about 4 hours.
No comments:
Post a Comment