What's going on.
July 24, 2008Readers have asked me to write about Blogher, but I can't. I didn't have the BlogHer experience I wanted to have, and I can't pretend I did, and if I tried to relay my experience I don't think anyone would believe I was at the same conference as all those other amazing people who had such a great time. Because my experience had nothing to do with the conference, it had to do with me. There's something not right in here, and I don't know what the problem is.
What I know is that I'm filled with grief all the time, that I have tried the patience of my friends and family, that I have been less of a mother and wife than I want to be, that I'm terrified that I'm driving away the people I love, that I've barely eaten since I returned. I am sure anyone who saw me at BlogHer will be baffled by this post, because I do an excellent job of hiding in plain sight. But since then something has broken open, and I can't hide. Right now I wish more than anything I could take back the decision to go to this conference, take back the last few months, start over and give you whatever you're here looking for, the anecdote or joke or relief from your day that you probably expect, instead of this sopping mess who's struggling to compose these crappy paragraphs. Even writing this seems awful and self-indulgent, but if I can't be honest here and get this out I will never write here again. I'm barely hanging on, and I'm trying to make sense of what happened to me. Of what's still happening to me.
Please be patient with me as I try to get to the other side of this. I know I will, but getting there means wading through a stunning level of pain and I don't like it one bit.
Reader Comments (324)
I can only echo what many others have written: You write for you, not for us (though it's hard not to feel you have to consider the audience). We love your articulation, your wit, your honesty. Use your words to heal yourself, either privately or here.
Just remember that you don't have to be "fine". You do need to take care of yourself through whatever means necessary: medication, yoga, therapy, whatever. You don't have to be SuperMom/SuperWife every day--we tend to put others' needs before our own and feel weak if and when we can't do that. You've suffered a loss and your grief lies deep. Don't ever think you have to deal with it on your own.
Sending healing thoughts your way!
http://www.glowinthewoods.com/home/
So take care of yourself. We're with you the whole way, no matter what that means for this blog. I don't know if it might be helpful to you to read "I've (kinda) been there stories", but nearly 2 years ago I lost my baby girl. I wrote about it here: http://anna.watchtan.com/article/big-stuff-continued, and just last week, Molly Piper guest posted on "Rocks in My Dryer" (http://rocksinmydryer.typepad.com/shannon/2008/07/what-id-like--4.html), about her experience with the death of her baby.
Anyway, like meg Hatton said in an earlier comment, I hope, even if my words didn't help, that they at least did no harm.
Bottom line: I'm rooting for you!
I'm sorry that my vacation last week prevented me from posting a comment sooner. Now that I'm back, "buck up."
Apathy aside, I hope you're feeling better. Many of us have been there, and continue to slip back now and then, so by no means do I give your feelings the casual brush off.
Take care of yourself.
Sympathetically,Joe
This is the blind leading the blind, but in the hopes that what has helped me might help you through your sorrow, I wanted to share:
* "Why?" is the question that haunts me night and day. I've begun reading the book "When Bad Things Happen to Good People" at the recommendation of my therapist... it is written by a rabbi but the message transcends religion... sometimes there is no reason. I'm trying to come to terms with the fact that I'll never know what caused my son's birth defect. To placate myself, I've made a donation in his name to the Environmental Working Group in the hopes that it will advance our understanding of environmental influences on our children(http://www.ewg.org/kidsafe/)... even though it won't help my son, it's a consolation that it may help others.
* I have found that I'm in a better frame of mind if I have gotten some form of exercise (I've rediscovered pilates) and eaten according to a schedule (as opposed to when I'm actually hungry).
* I wanted to second the recommendation of finding time to get outside for a walk - it's one thing that has really helped to ground me and give me hope. The fresh air, the scent of summer, and warmth of the sun on my face are somehow more comforting than I had ever imagined.
My heart goes out to you, Alice. You are such a warm, open, and honest person. You didn't deserve this, but you will find the strength to make it through. And I thank you for sharing with us; I visit your blog more often than any other because of your witty commentary on your life, but today you touched my life as well.
I too had a miscarriage in between my two children and it amazed me how hard it hit. Still when I hear about it happening to another woman I grieve for her and again for me.
You will get through it - one day, one hour, and one second at a time.
Thank you for your honesty, it reaches out and makes this computer screen a bit more human.
Hugs,Heidi
We are all thinking of you, praying for you, and love you.
We are all thinking of you, praying for you, and love you.
Sending thoughts of love and peace your way.
(((( Alice ))))
I know what you mean when you're barely hanging on, but how you're good at hiding it.
Without trying to sound trite: I know how you feel.
When you wrote this post, I was in a psychiatric hospital for a suicide attempt. I spent 5 days in ICU prior to that and I didn't even have to deal with the pain of a miscarriage.
You are so strong and so brave, even though sometimes it doesn't feel like that.
Trust me.
You are loved.
I've been where you are, and revisit frequently. And I don't mean BlogHer. Blessings on you.
(hugs)
I second what someone else said: Being real is beautiful.
I could have written that post without changing any words, a few months ago. You aren't alone in your pain. And yet, you are. I'm very sorry. Very, very sorry.