So, here's the thing. My dad died a little over a month ago, and at the time and in the following weeks, I thought, "I'm okay, I thought I would be in a padded room, but I'm fine...Ha, death....you can't beat me." Fast forward to the last few weeks....I am soooo not okay. I'm not like rocking back and forth and unable to form complete sentences, but here's what: I'm not sleeping well at all, and when I do, I have dreams that have gotten exponentially worse...I woke myself and Smitty up about a week ago yelling from a dream that consisted of being at my parents' house and if I was able to get to the kitchen, my dad wouldn't die...and I didn't make it. I'm telling you, I would like to be part of an experimental Swedish trial for some type of drug... because I can't freaking sleep. If I can actually go to sleep, I can't stay asleep...for above reasons...
How do you eradicate messed-up dreams? Even if I saw a psychiatrist, which we can't afford, it wouldn't help. I have an imagination that cannot be talked down. It's a good thing in some ways, but in other ways, I can't have my mind just wandering around on its own. It's bad enough that when I have some free time, I think, "I need to call my dad," and then I remember, and it's like a knife in my chest, but when I get still and try to sleep, I actually hear his voice and see his face...I swear, I'm not trying to be morbid, I need to get this stuff out, or I will be forever doomed to never sleep and be an anxious weirdo...that's the other thing, I'm wound tighter than Joan Rivers' face. I'm jumpy and agitated and my legs and feet won't stop moving...
Sooo, now here's me, admitting that I'm not really that okay, but I will be. I think finally acknowledging that I'm not okay helps a little, that instead of smiling and saying, "Well, I'm okay, it's just hard," and just taking out the "I'm okay" part is a step towards getting out all the stuff that's making me sad and antsy and unable to sleep. And the thing is, my dad would say, "What the hell are you sad about? I'm as happy as I could be; I'm fishing and I got to see my mother, and I'm just waiting on you all to get here. Snap out of it and eat some good food and watch some good movies and don't wallow. That's stupid." He always used to use the phrase "at play in the fields of the Lord" to describe anyone who had died or where he would be if he died early, and that phrase has made a rotation through my mind for 6 weeks as a comforting mechanism, because I have no doubt whatsoever he's in a better place and that he's at peace, I just wish I could still see him and talk to him.
I guess I just didn't fully grasp how hard the finality of not seeing him would be. I wanted him to be pain-free and in a better place, I just wanted to still be able to talk to him and tell him what Norton was doing. I realize that's a somewhat selfish outlook, but I can be somewhat selfish when it comes to people I love. One of the hardest parts of this is my imagining what will happen when I lose Smitty, and it makes me do weird stuff, like watch him sleep and poke him while he's sleeping if he's not breathing loudly enough. He does the WEIRDEST thing where he barely breathes...it freaks me out.
I swear, I will be okay, but I want you to know that when you say goodbye to anyone close to you, you need a strength that you don't think you have and may not have for a while. Just breathe in and out, live one day at a time, make sure no one in your life doubts your feelings for them, and make yourself happy, however that is possible. I'm still working out a lot of these things, especially the happy part...don't get me wrong, Smitty makes me happier than I ever thought I deserved to be, but I need something for me, that fulfills me and my interests and needs, that makes me a better wife and eventually (soon) a good mother.
This was such a sad post, I feel I need to add some levity: after falling in a hole nearly two weeks ago, I should no longer be required my brace this week, I no longer need my cane; I have developed a strange affection for Bret Michaels recently, he's been through so much; if I could be on any season of "The Real Housewives" except Atlanta, only as an extra, I would be super happy; flip flops should be the accepted "future footwear," much like those silver suits always depicted in movies/TV based in the future; I don't understand the "Lost" obsession, it seems like a cult; I have discovered a new-found love for cauliflower that sustains me a great deal; yet, asparagus still kinda grosses me out; I'm thinking more and more how we would be with a baby, and Smitty does not hyperventilate at this prospect; I want to be the aunt that gives the best presents EVER; karaoke should be more integrated into my life; I need more shoes; and we need to either separately or collectively, work into a scenario where we have a pool. There.
2 comments:
Do you feel better now?! My only suggestion is to talk to your father. He is still there especially if he is in your dreams. Dreams are a window so open it and accept what they bring you. They are helping you accept even though they are difficult to get through.
I feel a little better now, it's better when I get all this stuff out, b/c I tend to keep things bottled. I do talk to him in my dreams, they just don't go the way that I want them to...
I'm sure he'll be in my dreams for a long time, I just can't take the presence that's there now. I guess eventually it will taper off. I think I'm just gonna become a Yoga/breathing/chi nutjob who knows how to deal with all this nonsense...'cos regular wine-swilling Emily doesn't know how to deal...
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