As I sit here tonight, in our living room. Which once was filled with the laughter of our sweet girl. I realize. I'm all alone. My side kick is gone. Paul's in bed. Brad's in bed. Ashleigh is in Kalamazoo. And Carly, well my poor sweet girl lies in a grave, about 4 miles from our home. Which makes me physically ill.
As I wake each morning, my body aches and my stomach is in knots, even before my feet touch the floor. Which are all symptoms of grief. I close my eyes several times throughout the course of a couple of hours. If I'm up by 11, it's a good day for me. Yes, I said 11. I figure if I don't get up, I don't have to face the early mornings. Those early mornings, that I miss so much. My morning routine is forever changed. And I'm unsure what to do with myself. I can't for the life of me figure out what to do. Myself, hasn't existed for over 8 years. Myself. Alone. It sucks.
I can't really tell you what I do throughout the day. Time seems to be going so fast. The days just fly past. I hate that. I want to put the brakes on. I want to hit the rewind button of life and go back to April 22 with my happy go lucky little girl. Eventually, I do make my way to the shower, at some point. Some days, I may wash a load or two of clothes, but half the time I forget that I washed anything and by the next load, whenever that may be... I discover the sour smelling clothing left in my washer. Brad is home until about 3 each day, so I'm thankful that I'm not actually all alone all day. At that point, I head outside and sit in a yard chair. I sit there because I don't know what else to do. Paul shows up from work at various times. Normally by 5:30. He finds me sitting out there each day. I then head in to find something to scrounge up for supper. Then realize, it's the first bite of food I've eaten all day. Sometimes, actually quite often I realize that I haven't even had anything to drink all day. Other than a swig of water to take my blood pressure med and my anti-depressant. Then night time falls. Nights are just as bad as mornings. I'm used to bath time and bubbles and bath toys. Combing all that gorgeous hair of hers. Oh how I miss that hair. We had to blow dry her hair because she had so much of it. Air drying would take hours and hours and hours.
I feel like I m spinning at a rapid rate of speed. Spinning out of control. Going so fast that I can't stop. My mind is boggled. My legs are weak. My arms weigh 10 tons each, or at least they feel as if they do. My stomach has a constant knot in it. I can't sleep much. I'm up till the wee, wee hours of the morning. I'm having crazy wild dreams that don't make any sense at all. Which by the way, are all symptoms of grief. I've been sleeping (or trying to) on the couch. I just can't bring myself to climb into my bed. The bed that Carly slept in each night. I would tell her every night, "no Carly, you have to sleep in your bed". Well....she'd tell me, "NO, mama and Paul". Since she had us both wrapped around her little finger...she got her way. I'm unsure why it bothers me to lay in that bed. I can't even begin to explain it. Maybe I fear that I may turn over to gently pat her back, as I so often did...and she wont be there.
My memory seems to be shot these days. I can't remember anything anymore. Like the clothes in the washer. I can't remember what day it is. I can't remember what I made for dinner the night before. I panic if I can't find my cell phone, only to realize that I'm talking on it.
I visit Carly's grave often. Almost daily and sometimes more than once a day. Usually, if I go more than once, it's because I forgot something...like a jug of water for the plants/flowers. As I drive over to the cemetery, I feel like I'm in a dream. That there's no way possible for this to be real. Then I pull in and see her little grave and reality hits. I want to hit the rewind button of life and go back to April 22. when my girl was so happy go lucky. I want these days to slow down. I hate that the weeks are pressing forward without Carly. I hate wondering how to get through this.
Paul and I talk often of how lost we both feel. The emptiness that consumes our days. At any time at any place. We are reminded. Walking into a store. Walking out of a store. Going to the gas station. Driving by a park. Driving through the town where Carly went to school. Going to my parents house. Every place we go we are hit with the reality of loss and emptiness. We can be having a so so day and bamm...it's like slamming into a brick wall. At any given moment, our grief consumes us.
Last week, my mom and I went to a grief session group. We are suppose to go each Thursday night. However, I think it's too soon for me. I know that sounds nuts. But, I'm so full of anger. And this group is all about God. We all know, I'm not to good with him these days. I'm not sure I'll ever be good with him again. There is only one other person at that session who has lost a child. She lost her son in a car accident 7 years ago. Which scares the crap out of me. It makes me wonder just how good these group sessions are if you're still going after 7 years. These groups sit and talk about how grief works. Well guess what...I already know. I'm going through the process along with my entire family...I'm not sure I need them to tell me what I already know I feel. I know it's grief. We're going again tomorrow. Well, I guess today, since it's now 1:10 am on Thursday morning. I wont quit after one session. I'll give it a couple of weeks. However, private sessions may be better for me. Sessions where I can scream and cuss and complain. This group is NOT the place for that. It's only reaffirming what I already know and I don't know if that's of much use.
Guess that's it for my babbling tonight. I want to hit the rewind button of life...except, it doesn't exist.
T. O. Y. O.
3 minutes ago