Yesterday, after a week of feeling ill to my stomach and not doing anything about it, I finally called my doctor’s office. I figured that the pain was my IBS exacerbated by stress, but the pain had changed enough that I was worried. Eating was getting hard to do. And I needed an annual exam anyway, so I figured I could get something to help me through the bad days of grieving at the same time.
However, they didn’t have annual exam appointments available until the new year, and they weren’t calendaring out that far yet, so I’d need to wait until they were ready to calendar and then I could get an appointment. I started to cry, because I needed to be seen sooner. I needed to know that my stomach pain was just from the stress of learning how to live without my husband. And I hoped for something that could help ease my body when my mind got into a tailspin.
The woman on the phone advised me to come in to the urgent care and get seen that day, so that’s what I did. I finished my work day, ate some food, and then drove off to Weiser to see a doctor.
I ended up with a prescription for clonazepam, and a promise of a referral to a nearby psychiatrist, which I appreciated. I had no idea how to find a psychiatrist on my own, especially out where I live.
On the drive to Weiser, I cried a few times, mostly when thinking about how I would have to talk to the doctor about everything that had happened. I find myself feeling really broken, and I think I’ve got some shame and guilt plaguing me. I got myself in a mess after Ambrose’s death. My mind literally broke, leaving me with nearly 8 days that I have no recollection of.
I stopped drinking in part because I tended to drink until I blacked out, and then I’d have no memory of what I’d done. Most of the time it wasn’t too bad, but sometimes I was a pretty awful person and had to bear the consequences of that. Maybe I’m afraid that I did something horrible or unforgiveable while I was “blacked out” or maybe I’m just deeply ashamed that I had a break from reality. That I couldn’t handle it.
At my home, I find myself alternating between being able to do things and just feeling completely ineffectual. I couldn’t stop Ambrose from dying so what good are any of my actions? What’s the point of anything?
I know that I am grieving. That I am in the midst of a very difficult process. And yet, I feel like I’m failing. Like I’m broken and can’t do anything right. And those feelings are the monsters that I have to deal with right now. Those feelings deserve to be starved of energy and attention. Because I am not broken. And I know how to live.
Right now, I have to live with uncertainty. I won’t know how I feel any given day until I’m there. I won’t know how I’ll feel about work and having any given meeting until I’ve had the meeting.
Feeding shame and guilt will only make things worse and prolong the pain.
I loved that man so much that my mind couldn’t bear to know a world without him in it. That’s beautiful.
I mean, it’s also really intense, and definitely scary, but also beautiful.
And as for what I did when I wasn’t in my head… I have to trust that nothing terrible happened. I have to believe that once I was in custody, I was looked after and at least prevented from doing anything terribly inappropriate or stupid. I can think of the time at the mental health facility when I was cognizant and recognize that no one there was going to let me harm myself or others.
So. I need to stop feeding the monster in my head that tries to shame me for what happened. Stop feeding the monster that makes me feel guilty for having blacked out for days on end, because what if I did something? Stop feeding the monster that wants me to know the future.
I have to let myself take things one day a time, really and truly. And that is so hard for me right now. I start to spin out and think about all the things. Like if I can’t even work for 4 hours at a stretch right now, how am I going to go back to full time by mid-November? And that is not a question I should be asking right now.
I need to go remedial. My mind is like a toddler. It keeps running into the wall of Ambrose being gone and then crying because running into walls hurts. My therapist told me to have low demands on myself, and I think I need to really implement that.
I used to be someone who could plan ahead, but right now, I’m someone who cannot. And that is okay. I changed my sheets today. And now it’s time to switch the laundry over. I’ll stop by the grocery store to get milk and some protein shakes I ordered. And this evening I’ll pick up my brother so he can spend my birthday weekend with me.
That’s enough to think about.