Honesty
/I started this blog to remember how to laugh. To find the joy in my life after the death of my youngest son. For the most part, it worked. I've laughed a lot. I've met new friends and the boundaries of my life have opened up beyond anything I could ever imagined.
But in focusing on all the positive, funny little things over the last four years, I never fully worked through the heart ache of losing my Shale. I just kept pushing that pain away, telling myself time will take care of the wound. When grief would rear it's ugly head I'd write a post and then close my computer and myself from actually working through it.
These last few months all that time delayed grief has been wresting on my shoulders like an angry Silver Backed Gorilla, thumping the back of my head and yanking on my hair as though bananas would magically sprout of my ears. It's been hard to forget.
Bringing home Jumby has been a dream come true and a joy but also a constant reminder of who isn't here, the invisible brother who lives only in the shadows of our hearts and behind the glass of a dusty picture frame.
It's been tough. I more often than not find myself struggling with guilt because I can no longer remember Bug's scent or the sounds of his laughter and I worry he will wonder if I love him less because I have a new son. When I'm not plagued with guilty thoughts over Bug then I'm freaking out wondering if I'm loving Jumby and his siblings enough or if I'm being unfair to them when thoughts of Shale creep in and take the shine off a sunny moment.
Because I'm a little more self aware now than I was immediately after Shalebug's passing, I recognize I'm struggling. I've spent time with a therapist, I've dutifully swallowed the little pills guaranteed to balance out my brain and put a smile on my face and I've wrestled with my emotions the same way my eldest son wrestles with the boys on the playground.
So I have been taking time off from my writing to get my head on straight. And I've also been laying on my couch moaning to the baby Jeebus and every one who will listen about the evils of germ infested children who keep passing one nasty virus to me after another. I can barely see the floor around my couch as it's scattered with used tissues and my damn dog perches herself on my shoulder so her her tongue can dart out like a frog's after a fly to lick any tasty morsels of snot before I can even manage to reach for the tissue. It's been (sarcasm) fun. (/sarcasm)
I just wanted to explain my lack of regular posting here. I feel tremendously shitty about neglecting my blog but at this point it's all I can do to keep my head above water and breathe. Literally and figuratively.
I promise I'm doing my best to find my funny bone again.
And decongest and stay germ free for a period longer than a nanosecond.
You're patience is appreciated and to my long time readers, I thank you. To my new readers, um, I am emotionally tortured and one day I'll write great odes about finding my sanity but maybe in the meantime you should check out the Bloggess. Heh. And to those who abandoned me? Here, I've a used tissue I'd like you to have.
Thanks for your patience.
But in focusing on all the positive, funny little things over the last four years, I never fully worked through the heart ache of losing my Shale. I just kept pushing that pain away, telling myself time will take care of the wound. When grief would rear it's ugly head I'd write a post and then close my computer and myself from actually working through it.
These last few months all that time delayed grief has been wresting on my shoulders like an angry Silver Backed Gorilla, thumping the back of my head and yanking on my hair as though bananas would magically sprout of my ears. It's been hard to forget.
Bringing home Jumby has been a dream come true and a joy but also a constant reminder of who isn't here, the invisible brother who lives only in the shadows of our hearts and behind the glass of a dusty picture frame.
It's been tough. I more often than not find myself struggling with guilt because I can no longer remember Bug's scent or the sounds of his laughter and I worry he will wonder if I love him less because I have a new son. When I'm not plagued with guilty thoughts over Bug then I'm freaking out wondering if I'm loving Jumby and his siblings enough or if I'm being unfair to them when thoughts of Shale creep in and take the shine off a sunny moment.
Because I'm a little more self aware now than I was immediately after Shalebug's passing, I recognize I'm struggling. I've spent time with a therapist, I've dutifully swallowed the little pills guaranteed to balance out my brain and put a smile on my face and I've wrestled with my emotions the same way my eldest son wrestles with the boys on the playground.
So I have been taking time off from my writing to get my head on straight. And I've also been laying on my couch moaning to the baby Jeebus and every one who will listen about the evils of germ infested children who keep passing one nasty virus to me after another. I can barely see the floor around my couch as it's scattered with used tissues and my damn dog perches herself on my shoulder so her her tongue can dart out like a frog's after a fly to lick any tasty morsels of snot before I can even manage to reach for the tissue. It's been (sarcasm) fun. (/sarcasm)
I just wanted to explain my lack of regular posting here. I feel tremendously shitty about neglecting my blog but at this point it's all I can do to keep my head above water and breathe. Literally and figuratively.
I promise I'm doing my best to find my funny bone again.
And decongest and stay germ free for a period longer than a nanosecond.
You're patience is appreciated and to my long time readers, I thank you. To my new readers, um, I am emotionally tortured and one day I'll write great odes about finding my sanity but maybe in the meantime you should check out the Bloggess. Heh. And to those who abandoned me? Here, I've a used tissue I'd like you to have.
Thanks for your patience.