If you have read my previous posts today, I apologize for their darkness.
I know that many of you follow my blog to see how I'm doing.
Thank you all for looking out for me so well. You are amazing people and I can't imagine my life without you.
I write this blog as a form of therapy for myself. Every single time I sit down at this computer and put my feelings into it. I feel lighter. When I think I can't take the hurt anymore, I can put it down in black and white and lighten my load for a while.
I tried talking to a counselor. I have been to a counselor in the past. I went with Duffy to marriage counseling. I have nothing against them. Macomb has no counselors with specialized grief counseling for parents. So it was an hour of me talking about what happened, in detail, trying to put into words how I felt and him telling me that I was right for feeling what I was feeling. I already knew that.
I get to feel however I want to. Everything I'm thinking and doing, other grieving mothers have felt and done before. I think there are a handful of things that would be unacceptable for me to do. Abandon my husband and children for the sake of my own grief. That would be inexcusably selfish. Do something to harm myself or take my life. Again, inexcusably selfish. How could I do that to the girls who are still dealing with their first death?
I think that most days, I'm doing okay. Writing helps me tremendously. My family helps me tremendously. My friends help me every day. I can't put into words how I feel about you all. You let me be and do whatever I need to do and be. I know I haven't called you at 3am, but I know that I could. I haven't always had that, and you amazing women give me strength.
My husband. Daniel Patrick Duffy. He's a brash, loud, opinionated, conservative, republican, know-it-all jock. He's always holds me when I cry, he always knows just what to say when I can't breathe, he brings me flowers on my worst days, he keeps the girls busy so I can run. He has never second-guessed a single decision we made for Isabelle. He lets me find my own path through this grief. He tells me he loves me even when I make him mad. When I can't speak or get out of bed he lays there with me and holds me so I know he's there. Without him, I couldn't do this.
I know that many of you follow my blog to see how I'm doing.
Thank you all for looking out for me so well. You are amazing people and I can't imagine my life without you.
I write this blog as a form of therapy for myself. Every single time I sit down at this computer and put my feelings into it. I feel lighter. When I think I can't take the hurt anymore, I can put it down in black and white and lighten my load for a while.
I tried talking to a counselor. I have been to a counselor in the past. I went with Duffy to marriage counseling. I have nothing against them. Macomb has no counselors with specialized grief counseling for parents. So it was an hour of me talking about what happened, in detail, trying to put into words how I felt and him telling me that I was right for feeling what I was feeling. I already knew that.
I get to feel however I want to. Everything I'm thinking and doing, other grieving mothers have felt and done before. I think there are a handful of things that would be unacceptable for me to do. Abandon my husband and children for the sake of my own grief. That would be inexcusably selfish. Do something to harm myself or take my life. Again, inexcusably selfish. How could I do that to the girls who are still dealing with their first death?
I think that most days, I'm doing okay. Writing helps me tremendously. My family helps me tremendously. My friends help me every day. I can't put into words how I feel about you all. You let me be and do whatever I need to do and be. I know I haven't called you at 3am, but I know that I could. I haven't always had that, and you amazing women give me strength.
My husband. Daniel Patrick Duffy. He's a brash, loud, opinionated, conservative, republican, know-it-all jock. He's always holds me when I cry, he always knows just what to say when I can't breathe, he brings me flowers on my worst days, he keeps the girls busy so I can run. He has never second-guessed a single decision we made for Isabelle. He lets me find my own path through this grief. He tells me he loves me even when I make him mad. When I can't speak or get out of bed he lays there with me and holds me so I know he's there. Without him, I couldn't do this.
<3 x 92,309,185,431,324 to the nth degree.
ReplyDeleteI have to laugh at your description of Duffy, but then I smile to know it's all true, both the annoying-sounding qualities and the awesome-husband qualities.
ReplyDeleteI think the fact that I know he is there for you is what allows me to talk myself out of stopping by when I am worried. I know you are taken care of because he is there. And I know he is taken care of because you are there.
And by the way, you guys rock and the girls have a wonderful model of a loving, happy marriage. That is priceless these days.
Hey Niki. I just came out of hiding (was following anonymously). Not sure why. :-)
ReplyDeleteI seconded guessed my conversation and everything I said to you today in the car.
Please know that it was brought on out of love, concern, and extreme feelings of helplessness. (And probably some hormones thrown in for good measure)
And I just want you to know, that even though I am a big bawl-baby, I am still here for you for the hard stuff too. Unless you can't stand to see me cry, then you are SOL. :-)
Michelle
So glad the writing lightens the load, if even for a short while. Writing has always been a source of release for me.
ReplyDeleteI am so glad I can call you my friend. And your description of Duffy actually made me laugh!!
Niki,
ReplyDeleteI read through your whole blog this weekend after my friend forwarded me the emails between you both. This entry- the disclaimor blog- is so similar to one I wrote at about the 3-4 month mark after my loss. I was reading back through my entries and realized that people who care about me probably thought I was always on the brink of insanity. I felt the same way as you do about the therapeutic value of writing. I always called it mind-dumping. Sometimes, I would get up in the middle of the night and write so I could give my mind a break. I wish you could have a support group experience like I did as well. The SHARE organization is a good resource. Maybe they could help you establish one in your community.