No matter what I say, how I look, or what I do, I am not okay. I am almost always on the verge of tears, unable to predict what will ultimately send me over the edge.
Though I may be out, interacting, and doing seemingly normal things, it is sapping all my energy and all I really want is to be at home buried in my blankets. I can’t go anywhere without an escape plan.
No matter where I am or who I am with most of my thoughts are filled with Ariella. Even if Ariella was never a part of a situation I may be in, I am thinking of her. She never leaves me. In fact in some ways she is more present now than when she was alive because my mind revolves around her. What she should be doing, what she is missing, what we are missing, the future we no longer have. Every situation, every activity, every single facet of my life I am aware of her absence. No matter what I try to do to distract myself, no matter how distracted I seem, she is there, in my mind, in my heart, in my soul.
Every single day I beg and pray to die so I can be with her and end this pain. Even if I manage to have a day with some smiles and laughter. Every time I hear of a fatal accident, or someone that died of a heart attack or freak accident, I think “why couldn’t that have been me?” I don’t want this new life of mine.
There is no moving on, no getting over this. I will never get over the death of my daughter. I will never move on from Ariella. At most I can hope to learn to live with it and come out of this depression that squeezes me tightly in its grasp.
I am not living, I am only surviving (barely). I feel like I have nothing to live for and am just existing to get through each day until I can go to sleep again. I don’t understand the point. There is no point. What is the reason for living if there is no purpose, no joy, when your whole goal is to just survive another day while in the throes of deep anguish?
I suffer from PTSD. I have frequent flashbacks of Ariella in the PICU. There is no warning and each time I feel like I’m punched in the gut, I want to throw up, scream, yell, drop to my knees. I’m not always in a place where I can do that. These are extremely traumatic images and I can’t escape them, I can’t choose not to see them. My heart shatters again and again every time I see her in that hospital bed, sad and uncomfortable and scared. I would trade my life for hers in a heartbeat.
Grief is more than just feeling sad. It invades every part of your life, seeping into the farthest corners of your body and mind. My body physically hurts, all over. I feel nauseous much of the time. I get frequent headaches. My body shakes. My appetite changes constantly. From no appetite at all to I can’t stop eating. I can’t concentrate on anything for very long. I lose track of conversations, stop hearing what someone is saying, lose my train of thought. My brain is in a fog. I can be in an aisle of the grocery store and forget what I am doing there, forget what I am looking for. It’s hard to pay attention to things around me, impossible to multitask. My memory is shot. I forget to do simple daily tasks, return a text, send an email.
Any excursion out of the house is fraught with anxiety. I am in a constant state of fight or flight. Who am I going to have to talk to? Who will I see? Will I have a breakdown? Will I have to tell someone who doesn’t already know? What will trigger me? I am constantly dodging landmines.
I am forever changed by Ariella’s death. I will never be the happy, content person I was before she died. I’m afraid to see who I will ultimately become.