There are days when I feel like I'm losing my mind. A lot of days. We are approaching the 3 month mark of Izzy's passing. I find myself counting it down as though it's something to look forward to. It's not. I'm not, but here I am counting it down. It seems like it has been so long without her, but then again, it can't possibly have been so long. When I can go for days at a time without breaking down, I think I've turned the corner and that the pain is getting manageable and that I'm through the worst, but there are things that other grieving parents described, and told me would probably come up at some point, that I haven't yet gone through. A few things that Duffy is struggling with, but that I hadn't experienced yet. Dreams and the overwhelming urge to go dig her up. I can now check those off this list of horror.
I dreamt about Izzy the other night. Twice. Once, I could hear her calling me. She kept crying and calling, "Mommy, come find me. I need you." I don't know where we were, but it was cold and foggy and misty. I couldn't see anything. I kept looking for her, but I could not find her. When I woke up, I wanted to cry, but I didn't want to wake Duffy, so I got out of bed.
Then when I went back to sleep, I dreamt of her again. This time I was sitting in a rocking chair holding her. It wasn't my rocking chair, and it wasn't her room. I felt so happy and complete. She was swaddled in her pink blanket, and I could feel how soft it was. I could smell her lotion. It was like she had just gotten out of the tub. And then the alarm went off.
I was still partially asleep and I was overcome with the urge to go and dig her up. I needed to see her and hold her. She doesn't belong in the ground, she belongs here with me. I know she wants to come back. She doesn't want to be there either. She wants us.
Then I woke all the way up.
When Jennifer told me that the dreams and the urge to dig up your child would come at some point, I didn't not believe her, I just thought, "well, it hasn't happened yet, maybe it won't." She told me that on several occasions she found herself with shovel and coat in hand ready to get in the car.
I don't think I can put into words how strong the urge was to go and get her. I just needed her. Well, I need her every day, but this was, different, more powerful. That's part of the reason I feel so out of it. My mind is working in ways that it never did before. I'm thinking about things in ways I never have before. I am questioning things, and people, and feelings. Most of the time I can talk myself down before I say or do something rash, but every once in awhile it gets away from me.
Sunday.
I was convinced by Sunday afternoon of several things; Duffy was having an affair with someone from work, he was only staying with me because he felt sorry for me, no matter how in shape I get I will never look good enough, I am a terrible mother to the girls, it is my fault Izzy died, no one would miss me if I disappeared. In fact there would be a massive wave of relief because then no one would have to deal with the misery that is Niki Duffy. (I am not fishing for compliments, so please don't feel obliged to post contradictions to these statements.) Duffy told me I was out of my mind and to stop. I locked myself in the bathroom. Duffy paid no attention to this so I went upstairs and shut myself in Izzy's room. I wrapped myself in her blanket. The pink one that was in my dream and slept for a while. Then I finally went to bed and slept on and off for awhile. I had plans that afternoon with friends, and Dan kept trying to get me to go, but I was so convinced that no one would miss me, I didn't want to go. I didn't get out of bed again until 4am the next morning when I had to work.
That day may have been the darkest day I have ever been through. I don't think like that, I don't question myself. I don't question my husband's commitment to me. I don't think my friends are faking our friendship. I just don't. Until now. I find myself unsure of everything. I find myself questioning every decision I make. It doesn't take anything at all to send me spiraling down sometimes. Even writing about it now makes me feel dead and dark inside. If a day this extreme can hit me nearly 3 months after Izzy's death, what does the rest of my life without her have in store for me?
I dreamt about Izzy the other night. Twice. Once, I could hear her calling me. She kept crying and calling, "Mommy, come find me. I need you." I don't know where we were, but it was cold and foggy and misty. I couldn't see anything. I kept looking for her, but I could not find her. When I woke up, I wanted to cry, but I didn't want to wake Duffy, so I got out of bed.
Then when I went back to sleep, I dreamt of her again. This time I was sitting in a rocking chair holding her. It wasn't my rocking chair, and it wasn't her room. I felt so happy and complete. She was swaddled in her pink blanket, and I could feel how soft it was. I could smell her lotion. It was like she had just gotten out of the tub. And then the alarm went off.
I was still partially asleep and I was overcome with the urge to go and dig her up. I needed to see her and hold her. She doesn't belong in the ground, she belongs here with me. I know she wants to come back. She doesn't want to be there either. She wants us.
Then I woke all the way up.
When Jennifer told me that the dreams and the urge to dig up your child would come at some point, I didn't not believe her, I just thought, "well, it hasn't happened yet, maybe it won't." She told me that on several occasions she found herself with shovel and coat in hand ready to get in the car.
I don't think I can put into words how strong the urge was to go and get her. I just needed her. Well, I need her every day, but this was, different, more powerful. That's part of the reason I feel so out of it. My mind is working in ways that it never did before. I'm thinking about things in ways I never have before. I am questioning things, and people, and feelings. Most of the time I can talk myself down before I say or do something rash, but every once in awhile it gets away from me.
Sunday.
I was convinced by Sunday afternoon of several things; Duffy was having an affair with someone from work, he was only staying with me because he felt sorry for me, no matter how in shape I get I will never look good enough, I am a terrible mother to the girls, it is my fault Izzy died, no one would miss me if I disappeared. In fact there would be a massive wave of relief because then no one would have to deal with the misery that is Niki Duffy. (I am not fishing for compliments, so please don't feel obliged to post contradictions to these statements.) Duffy told me I was out of my mind and to stop. I locked myself in the bathroom. Duffy paid no attention to this so I went upstairs and shut myself in Izzy's room. I wrapped myself in her blanket. The pink one that was in my dream and slept for a while. Then I finally went to bed and slept on and off for awhile. I had plans that afternoon with friends, and Dan kept trying to get me to go, but I was so convinced that no one would miss me, I didn't want to go. I didn't get out of bed again until 4am the next morning when I had to work.
That day may have been the darkest day I have ever been through. I don't think like that, I don't question myself. I don't question my husband's commitment to me. I don't think my friends are faking our friendship. I just don't. Until now. I find myself unsure of everything. I find myself questioning every decision I make. It doesn't take anything at all to send me spiraling down sometimes. Even writing about it now makes me feel dead and dark inside. If a day this extreme can hit me nearly 3 months after Izzy's death, what does the rest of my life without her have in store for me?
You know all I could think about when you didn't answer any of my texts or calls, and then the house was so completely dark at 8:30...was that something had happened and you were gone. I can't tell you how hard it was to quell the fear that you were dead, and even when I saw your van in your driveway, I thought, "Oh my God I should go in and check to see if they've all been murdered, because the house is so dark!" It's happened in my life before, which made it more real.
ReplyDeleteIt wasn't until I heard from you the next morning that I breathed a sigh of relief. Up until that point I'd been imagining my life without you, and repeatedly attempting to tell myself that I was being overly dramatic about the situation. I understand that what you're going through is something I cannot even comprehend. But know that there are people who are pretty sure their life will end if you're not around.
When I saw you yesterday, I knew something terrible was going on. I wanted to ask but didn't want to upset you at work. I was so bummed that I did not get to go to the movie and when you said you didn't go, I thought, oh I am so glad I didn't go, it wouldn't have been any fun without Niki.
ReplyDeleteSo many people care about you. Don't forget that.
Erica
I wanted to storm the castle, so to speak, both after the movie and after dinner. But I talked myself out of it. I think we all knew that something was not OK or you would have been there. You were definitely missed.
ReplyDeleteIn one part of the movie, she is mourning her divorce and someone tells her to send light and love to her ex-husband every time she thinks about him or feels guilty about the divorce.
That night we were camping outside and I was NOT sleeping. I thought about you a lot (that and who should play the gods and goddesses from the Percy Jackson movies, but that was an attempt to trick myself into falling asleep). And every time I thought of you and was worried about you, I sent you light and love.
I also to fight a very strong urge to claw at the ground after Ethan passed away. To this day, I still worry about whether it's cold "down there" even though I know it doesn't matter anymore. Hope you find brighter days in the near future. I don't know if you're Christian or not, but I was once told that the light of Christ shines brighter during times of darkness. Take care.
ReplyDeleteKeeping you in my thoughts and prayers. I think of you often and wonder how you are doing. I am always here if you need anyone to talk to. I know you have a million other friends who are there for you too, but now you can have a million and one. Love you! :) Kerri
ReplyDelete