I started writing this blog post back in June when I thought I would have more time and more mental ability to get my thoughts together about this specific topic. And then life, as usual, took over. But I'm currently sitting in a car for the next 4 or so hours on our way to Minnesota, so I thought I would take the time to work through this. You'll see a couple dated entries of how this post has gone...
June 20, 2018:
It's been almost a year since my last post. In that year so much has happened, and I just haven't been in a place mentally or physically to sit down and write. I tried to write about Ellie's 2nd Birthday back in October, and couldn't. Then tried again in December. If there is one thing I have learned over the last 32 months is that the season between Ellie's birthday (October 22) through the new year is always the most difficult for me. But there was something about this time around that it was even harder.
With the recent passing of Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain, I think it's time to open up about just how bad this year was for me. Like I said, the season between Ellie's birthday and the new year is a rough season. This year, it seemed like every single day was a fight to stay alive. I didn't want to live. I would drive to work, hoping someone would hit me. Between the loss of my daughter, and the inability to conceive another child, it felt like the only things I have ever cared about were never going to happen. I spent any free time I had in bed just wishing to never wake up. I would put on an act and make it seem like I was fine as best I could.
Today, September 19, 2018:
Here we are again, months later that I'm finally getting to work on this blog post again. This summer got away from me, and it's now fall and I'm mentally preparing myself for the rough season of Ellie birthday and the holidays. Joel and I were talking yesterday about how bad my depression was last year, and how it took its toll on him, too. To the point he would just drive somewhere to scream in his car to get his anger and frustration out, without taking it out on me. He knew it wasn't "me" saying and doing those things- it was the depression. Everyone thinks that child/infant loss is going to be the worst in the first few months/year, but it's a lifelong thing. It will change overtime, as I have already seen in the last almost 3 years, but I would never say it's gotten easier.
Knowing that Ellie's birthday is coming up and that I struggle the most this time of year, I have been spending a lot of time thinking back to those early days/months after Ellie died. I went into survival mode. I pushed everyone that cared about me away. I needed to be alone. I needed to do research and look for others who had experienced this. I ignored all the texts and calls from friends and family. I spent my days looking up online support groups. I only wanted to talk to people who just got it. I hurt a lot of people doing this, but I was also was hurting, and I needed to put myself first.
I am doing my best to not let my grief get as bad this year. I am prepared to call a therapist at the first sign of it getting as bad as it was last year. I never want to feel that bad again. I can't express enough how rough it was for me. And I had only ever told Joel about it until recently, when I opened up to a friend that I am working on repairing a relationship with after pushing her away 3 years ago. I hated waking up every morning and having to live a life without my daughter. I wanted to die so so badly. I wanted to run off the road into the cement walls. I wanted someone to hit me while driving. I wanted to die in my sleep somehow. I just didn't want to be here anymore. I never sought help from a therapist last year, and I do regret that. But the thought of spending money on a therapist also made me more upset because we were starting to save for IVF. There was a sense of relief when I finally opened up about these thoughts to Joel, though. It didn't make me "all better." I did, however, stop having so many of these thoughts slowly. I saw the pain on his face when I told him, and it reminded me that I can't leave him a bereaved dad as well as a widower at 30. I couldn't put my parents and in-laws through that. I couldn't have my mom join this "loss mom club" that I'm a part of. It was a struggle, but I finally started smiling again.
So there it is. I'm laying it all out there. Because I know I'm not the only one going through this. And it helps me in turn. I'm sorry if my thoughts were a bit all over the place, but that's just how my brain is working as of late.
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