After I read the book "Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee", I felt pretty depressed. After I visited the Holocaust Museum in Washington, D.C., I was bummed out for two days. But this is personal. This is one of the hardest losses I've ever had to deal with. It's been four weeks, and I'm still crying everyday. It's the first time I've ever taken anti-depressants. The anti-depressants allow me to function, so I don't wallow in depression, but they do not numb the pain. I still have my feelings, and I still have my sadness. Sometimes I just feel like I want to bury my broken heart.
I can't tell you how many times I've listened to Tracy Chapman's song "Remember the Tinman" over the last couple of weeks. I've been really resonating with the whole theme of losing your heart. Yesterday, I paused to reflect on these two lines at the end of the song that caught my attention:
"And remember the Tin Man
found he had what he thought he lacked.
Remember the Tin Man,
Go find your heart and take it back!"
A part of me looks at having a baby as fulfilling a part of my life that is empty. I feel deficient for not having children. Maybe the part of me that feels empty will still feel empty even after I have a child? Or maybe what I am seeking in having a child I have already? I know it's my ego telling me that I'm deficient and that I must have a child to make my life whole, but intellectual knowing and feeling like crap are two different things.
The repetitive negative thoughts get in the way of my grieving process. When the thoughts keep rolling over and over like the hamster on the wheel, I have to consciously stop them, take a deep breath, feel my heart, and that is when the tears come, again and again.
1013th Friday Blog Roundup
12 hours ago
8 comments:
I ache for you, Phoebe. I truly do. I know only too well the experience and emotions you've described.
Very small consolation at best but know you're not alone ... and while it may not seem like it today or tomorrow or next week, you will arrive at a point when the pain won't cut so sharply. It's the last thing I could imagine when I was in the throes of the emotional torture...but it does get better.
Phoebe - I have no words of comfort, no advice, no directions....just an incredible amount of sympathy and awe. It takes a great courage to grieve, to feel the grief carving out a space inside where you feel your heart should be. And it takes even more courage and strength to take that deep breath, let go of the negative critic within and simply "feel" all of it. My heart is hurting deeply for all you are going through.
I wish there was more I could say. I just want you to know that you are heard, you pain is valued, and you are not alone.
Oh, I'm so sorry. Grief is so, so hard. Peace to you. Strength to you. Healing to you.
I am feeling your heart with you.
And I am holding your hand *not letting go*
HUGS.
the para about fulfilling the emptiness really resonated with me. I struggle with this all the time, thinking that my longing can be intellectualized away by just being in the moment. but it can't. not where my heart is concerned.
I'm here by way of the Virtual Lushary over at Mel's place. Your comment drew me here and I thought I'd stop by and say... what? Really, I know I can't say anything to help take the pain away. But I hope your heart heals, one day at a time.
vee
I made the decision 3 years ago that I would do my best to be whole without a child. My reasoning was that expecting a newborn to bring me happiness was just being selfish and unfair. Yet, it isn't that easy is it?
I also worry that I will never be healed from the losses and subfertility. I think it is something we figure out one day at a time.
Your last paragraph shows your strength and insight. You will be ok. I just wish I could say it will be easy.
Thanks for sharing the song. And pointing out the lyrics.
I'm starting to think that this maternal instinct, this primal need, is bigger than happiness and bigger than ego.
Post a Comment