Learning to Breathe
I found myself counting again last night. We were just sitting down to dinner, getting the younger ones situated in their seats, about to say the blessing when it hit me. It caught me off guard, too. I have talked before about the counting. This time it was different. Yes, someone was missing, but not with the anticipation of what was to come. It was a feeling of frantic loss. It was almost an “out of body experience.” I forced myself, my body, to continue through the motions of what we usually do at dinner (blessing, serve, pass the food, etc.) but it was like my soul was frantically looking around.
I could almost feel my soul leave my body and search for what who was not with us. I could see myself running through the house frantically trying to find the Missing. Running in and out of every room screaming at the top of my lungs but no sound was coming out. Reaching out desperately for what I could not grasp. Wanting my arms to be wrapped tightly around what I could not reach, but aching with a weight so great I could not raise me arms to reach out. Nothing was in order. Nothing was where it was supposed to be.
Have you ever watched a child use a new box of crayons and be so incredibly picky about putting each one back in the exact same place it was when it was taken out? Have you ever seen a child so intent with the new crayons that each one not only had to be put back in the exact spot is was taken from, but all the crayons had to be turned the same way so they were lined up just right? I have, that was me. If my crayons were not lined up just right then I just knew that something terrible was going to happen, but if I could just keep things around me in order, then my life would be OK too.
That feeling and those thoughts came back to me last night in that moment. I felt like I was going to have to fight back a panic attack. I experienced quite a few panic attacks back in ‘04/’05. There were days I didn’t want to leave the house or talk on the phone or see anyone. Other reasons, but the toll it took on me emotionally was incredible. I became a hermit, almost agoraphobic at that time.
I feel it again now. The pressure in my chest, not able to get a good strong deep breath. To walk outside and sit on my porch is almost too much. I do not want to see anyone. I do not want to talk to anyone. Today I am stressed by tomorrow being Sunday. It might be a good thing we do not have a second car because if we did, I would go to a different church where no one knew me. Or what has happened. That way I could just go to church and leave the elephant at home.
This is so much bigger than me. I feel swallowed up today. I know that God is bigger than this and I do feel His arms around us. I don’t like to cry. It gives me a headache. I’m tired of crying. I don’t like that I am this emotional. I don’t want anyone to see this. I am writing about it so I know others know, but to see it is different. I don’t want to show it. It’s too private, it’s not meant for anyone else, these tears or my pain.
Right now I just need to breathe, to push through it and figure it all out. I need to figure out how to get through each day without falling apart. I need to figure out how to talk about it without falling apart, to be able to just talk about it. I need to figure out how to hear someone tell me they are sorry without me falling apart, to be able to just say thank you and continue on. I need to figure out how to receive a hug without losing physical strength; I need to be able to stand strong and just hug back and say thank you. I just need more time to learn to breathe again.
Different reasons, too, but I do know the pain of panic attacks and fear. It’s lonely, and dark. I’m so sorry.
It may be Post Partum Depression, so hang in there. It will take time, but it will get better eventually. It’s OK to cry, you know? It’s OK to mourn, and be scared, and angry, and all those other emotions. I know it stinks, but it might just be necessary. Let it out whenever you need to so it doesn’t well up inside.
((hugs))
I have been so impressed with your ability to put your feelings into words.
Although I know it doesn’t at all compare to the loss of your own child, I can relate to a lot of what you say to the recent unexpected death of my Dad. I felt a lot of the same feelings, but could never put them to words. However, I did rather the opposite of what you have done. I felt like I had to be so strong for my Mom and siblings that I didn’t actual face my own feelings for awhile. I think you are doing the more healthy thing by actually facing them head on. I think it is okay to break down when people ask you about it and you don’t need to stand strong. (I never wanted people to see me break down-that seemed to private to me, but it is awfully hard to always hold it in)
Whatever you end up doing, it is yours to go through. You should go through it however you need to and however long you need to.
I am a stranger here reaching out to you and I am sure that you have a lot support where you live when and if you want it.
lorimos last blog post..Kindness
I understand how the emotions will make you feel weak, but it’s necessary and healthy (and I know that doesn’t help). And nothing else I think to say sounds right, so just know that you are in my thoughts and prayers every single day.
mamalangs last blog post..Inquiring Minds Want to Know
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I will pray for God to give you peace of mind.