I’m Breaking

I want to start by thanking everyone who has reached out, checked in, made sure I’m ok or reminding me that it’s okay if I’m not. Especially those who have been persistent in letting me know you are there even on those days when I cannot even muster the energy to respond. It has not gone unnoticed and is the reason that I continue to feel connected with the world. Without those reminders it would be so easy to just bury myself under the blankets and hide from life. I appreciate it more than you can possibly understand.

I wish I was writing to say that I managed to drag myself out of this hole I’ve been in for the last month and a half. Unfortunately I feel like I’m pretty much in the same place and I fear I will be until May 9. No matter how much I try to distract myself I can’t help but relive those traumatic days in the ICU. The sounds, the smells, the machines, the tubes. The beeping. Always the beeping. Ariella’s constant anxiety and fear and sadness. The overwhelming nighttime routine. The helplessness, complete lack of control. The images. The ones forever burned in my mind. From March 8 through May 9. It was around this time 5 years ago that I reached my breaking point. And yet I had to be there for Ariella. And we endured so much more. Ariella endured so much more. Detailed memories of Ariella have started to fade which breaks my heart. It’s getting harder to remember the sound of her voice, the feel of her arms around me. But I cannot fucking forget those days in the ICU no matter how hard I try. I try to force myself to get out, to keep busy, but I haven’t been up for much. I cry. All the fucking time. I can’t seem to stop. And not just quiet, gentle tears escaping but full on huddled on the floor in the fetal position sobs. Or breaking down in my car. Or escaping to the bathroom when in public. I’m running. A lot. Pushing myself harder than I should but the pain from pushing my body to its limits is the only thing right now distracting me from the emotional pain. I just want to make it physically hurt.

I’m usually pretty good at pretending that I’m okay when I’m not. But much like 5 years ago I feel like I have reached my breaking point. Since February 18, the anniversary of the day we checked Ariella into the hospital for the BMT, the last day she was ever at home with us, I’ve felt myself sinking deeper and deeper into the darkness until I couldn’t hide it anymore. I unloaded on some friends last night who were not expecting it. Hell, I wasn’t expecting it. I don’t usually let myself be so vulnerable in person, especially with people I am not especially close to. Ironic I know because I put it all out there in this blog. But when I’m typing I don’t have to see people’s faces, their reactions. But I just couldn’t pretend anymore and I did appreciate the sympathy and kindness.

All of this to say I’m still struggling to find the light. It’s always been the anticipation of the dates that is worse than the actual dates. And this time of year is just 3 months of anticipating and reliving and desperately wishing for a different ending. But it feels so much harder this year. I’m feeling very very lost and alone and I really don’t like this place I’m in right now. I want to dig my way out but I just don’t know how. I’m hoping a change of scenery might help. I’m heading out of town in a couple of days. But I am stepping way out of my comfort zone, anxiety be damned, and traveling solo, which is a new experience for me. I feel like it can go one of two ways; be absolutely incredible or a fucking disaster. Stay tuned.