The last 8 months I find myself taking many deep breaths. Often times due to anxiety. Often times because I get a gnawing feeling deep down in the pit of my stomach. Which, I suppose is all due to anxiety. I literally have to make myself take several deep breaths while counting to 10, 15, 20 etc. I guess the counting technique is suppose to help calm you down. Who knows. Sometimes it seems to work and other times not so much. There are times, I feel as though I can't breathe at all. I feel like I'm gasping for breath.
Today, I insisted that Paul go shopping with me. Which was probably a big mistake. He was not very happy about going, but honestly...neither was I. We met Ashleigh at the Mall after she got off work. Let me just say, it was NOT a pleasant time. I took many deep breaths today while shopping. Paul drove me crazy! The minute we got to the Mall, he started.."I'm ready to go. I can't take it" I had to just walk away from him and breathe. Had I not walked away from him, he would have gotten an ear full, which would not have been a good thing because I would have regretted it. I know I would have. But, I've done all the Christmas shopping this year. ALL of it. It was not easy for me. Trust me, this has been incredibly hard for me this year. So, in a nut shell... I'm pissed about it! All of the shopping was put on my shoulders this year. I think Paul sometimes forgets, that he's not the only one who is suffering this huge loss. Thankfully, Ashleigh ended up calling Paul out on his pissy attitude, which changed his attitude up a bit. He seems to listen to her...and tends to think I'm nagging! Imagine that,,,a husband who thinks his wife nags! I do still think it was best for me to just walk away while at the Mall and take several deep breaths, count very slowly to about 15 and pop a Xanax.
Our ride home was kind of quiet. But I really think it was just the new found reality that the last 8 months has thrown our way. I don't know about Paul, but I sat staring out the window looking at all the Christmas lights with tears running quietly down my face. Sitting in silence and wondering just how in the hell we are going to get through this. How can our lives possibly go on without Carly?
Now don't go thinking we are having marital problems. We are not. This is the reality of a first Christmas without our baby girl. It sucks. It's very hard. Harder than most of you could ever imagine. Seeing everyone running around happy go lucky...and then there's us. Sad. Miserable. Envious. Us. We're trying to figure out how in the heck we are going to get through the next several days. We feel like we are walking through a fog. We feel like the walls are closing in on us. Sadly, it seems to be the new way of living for us these day.
I've been getting several comments and emails from people who are floored that I can still actually get up each day and put one foot in front of the other. Well, let me just say that many days I don't get up until very late in the morning. When I do finally get myself up, it's often due to the fact that I have forced myself up. I have no desire to get up each morning at all. None. Am I depressed? You bet. All four of us are depressed. And I can honestly say, I don't know if we will ever not be depressed.
Once you witness your 8 year old daughter/sister suffering a cardiac arrest in the middle of your living room, out of the clear blue and being in the damn ER screaming at the doctor "Do NOT stop working on my baby." Begging the doctor to give Carly another Epi shot. And I mean, I was BEGGING. Being told "it's to late." Being told "your daughter is dead." Screaming at the ER doc to do it again. Screaming for the doctor to give one more shot of Epi. And so, she did. It was the 10th Epi shot given to Carly in about a 40 minute span. I think this is more than enough reason to leave a person extremely depressed.
Also, knowing that your 24 year old daughter, who was Carly's very best friend and vise-versa, had to be told over the phone that her little sister was was gone. Well, actually, my dad had to do that. I begged him not to tell Ashleigh over the phone, but he convinced us that it had to be done. She had to be told. That there would be no time better than another. Ashleigh did in fact know that something was happening with Carly that day. Brad called her and told her that something was wrong and that Carly was gone in the ambulance. Then we found out that Ashleigh collapsed on the floor at work when being told about Carly. Having your 21 year old son escorted into the ER seeing his mom holding the lifeless body of his baby sister. Having your oldest walk into your parents house and collapse in your lap. All of this justifies MAJOR depression. All of this justifies my very deep seeded anger.
The only possible option we have in order to even attempt get through this, is to BREATHE. I just hope that none of us forgets how.