Spent

I am drowning. I am underwater and overwhelmed. And it’s not my grief submerging me. At least not completely. I have never before felt so overloaded that I actually want to quit my job. I won’t quit. Mostly I love my job and there are too many benefits for me to leave, but I keep getting dragged under and cannot seem to crawl my way out and catch up with the demands for which I am being inundated. It has been one thing after another and I wish I could just throw in the towel. And while trying to survive with a part of me missing is not the cause of this specific stress, it certainly doesn’t help me manage it.

Exhausted does not begin to describe how I’ve been feeling. I am spent. I started this post 2 weeks ago and just left it because I haven’t had the energy for writing. And writing does take energy, a different energy than working, exercising, getting through the day. I’ve had a myriad of thoughts but not the wherewithal to put them on paper. Though I always feel better after, it’s draining to process and get it all out. When I’m finished with my responsibilities for the day I just want to lay on the couch and not have to think or act.

Since Ariella died, what used to be my most favorite time of year has become my most dreaded and painful. When I once looked forward to the crisp air, sweater and boots weather, apples and pumpkin spice, I now wish I could burrow myself under the blankets and hibernate until January. This is the third fall and holiday season without Ariella’s exuberance and delight at the apple picking and hayrides and festivals. The third first day of school with no one to take a picture of. The third time the best day of my life (and now one of the most heartbreaking) has passed without Ariella celebrating another year older. The third Thanksgiving without Ariella writing a menu, making place settings, decorating, and helping to cook (for about 5 minutes before abandoning me in the kitchen). A time of year that used to feel like new beginnings and fresh starts and family now feels just empty and meaningless.

I can’t seem to finish this post. Not sure why. I think just between working and trying to survive I can’t take on much else. It’s been another week now since I started this post and the hits at work just keep on coming. It seems like I get one step closer to getting caught up then knocked 2 or 3 steps back. I try to tell myself it doesn’t matter, it will get done, in the grand scheme it’s not a big deal, but as a person with anxiety that doesn’t work for me. So while I was counting the days until Thanksgiving break, now I am counting the days until winter break.

So Thanksgiving. Not sure what to say about that. The day as a whole mostly was fine. Turkey Trot with friends and family in the morning was a good start to the day. I thought just maybe I would be okay. This was the first year since Ariella died (the 3rd Thanksgiving) that we attempted a “normal” Thanksgiving with family. And it just wasn’t good (not the fault of any of the people in attendance). No sooner did we arrive than I wanted to leave. Sitting at a table, listening to the chatter and conversation around me, no one acknowledging the missing daughter, granddaughter, cousin. Smiles and laughter and celebration and it was just wrong. I had no appetite, no desire to interact with anyone, and finally told David I had to get out of there. Pretty much ran out without saying goodbye to most people. David and I are fortunate that we have understanding family. They would have supported us if we chose not to attend at all and they supported us when we cut the evening short. I have friends in similar positions whose families aren’t so understanding. They aren’t allowed to grieve in the way the need to, to take care of their needs. They are made to feel selfish. Honestly, those grieving especially an untimely loss need to be selfish sometimes. The pain is so excruciating that the only way to protect ourselves and get through is to be selfish, avoid the events, stay home, whatever we need. On a day of thankfulness it’s awfully hard to be grateful when your child is dead. But I am thankful that I don’t have to pretend like I’m okay and fake being normal and put myself in situations that are not good for me.

David and I are going to another bereaved parents retreat. When we were invited immediately we jumped at the chance and booked our plane tickets. But there have been periods of time where I’ve had mixed feelings. These retreats are a rollercoaster of emotions and at times I’ve been wondering if I have it in me right now to let those feelings out and absorb the grief of others. In the past couple of weeks I’ve realized how much I need this retreat right now. It again won’t be easy but just the promise of reuniting with friends is what has been getting me through lately. We have also been planning a couple other trips and just having something to look forward to and keep us busy planning makes a difference. Getting away from home helps a lot. Sometimes I think it would just be easier to move away, start somewhere else, in a place that feels “normal” without Ariella. There is no right thing to do. What feels good in one moment may feel terrible in the next. Ultimately it is still just getting through the days minute by minute.

I have been taking up running a lot more lately. I was considering starting a running blog but after some thought I don’t think I need a separate place for that. This blog is about living after the death of a child and running has become a large part of my life again to help me get through the days. Getting back into running as much as I have is as much for my mental health as it is for my physical health. Actually more for my mental health. So I’ll be sharing my running journey here as well. I ran a bit in high school and college but really got into it in my late 20s/early 30s. After an injury sidelined me I was frustrated when I couldn’t get back to where I was. While I never stopped running I did decrease quite a bit because I was worried about getting injured again. I continued running recreationally but had sworn off further racing. In February 2020 I was convinced to sign up for a 10 miler that June, pretty much for the shirt. Well we all know what happened there but I did do the run virtually. When in-person racing resumed earlier this year I felt the need to be a part of it and even though the race itself was pretty miserable (the hills were so ridiculous as to be defeating) it actually felt good to be a part of something bigger, a part of a community, even though that is usually the opposite of my whole being. So here I am. Back to signing up for races, running marathons, joining a racing team and a training group. Joining a team or group by the way, is way out of my comfort zone. But while one reason I love running is because it is a solitary sport, I have recently discovered the value of also running with others. I have set some goals, with the ultimate goal to qualify for the Boston Marathon (I wasn’t too far off with the Baltimore marathon considering the pain I was in and the difficulty of the course). So that journey will also be documented here, because having a goal, having something to work towards (who am I kidding, something to obsess about) is giving me some of that purpose I have been looking for.