Life Won’t Quit

Some days it seems like the world won’t let me be.

Days like today, when I’m tired of waking up for the past 3 mornings in tears and afraid to get out of bed.
When you sit down with your coffee and try not to think but the rain on the window appears to be running. Like you.
When you just want to give up, because nothing would be easier than to stop feeling everything but there’s so much riding on you that you can’t afford to go back to bed and never get back up.

It doesn’t feel right.

Even when I spend my whole day busy–cleaning, cooking, packing, caring for the dog–I still feel useless.
It’s like walking around empty. Just a blank shell wandering about. Reenacting your daily life. But you’re not in it.

 

Last night I finally let Eric in on what I’ve been feeling.
He’s known that I haven’t been quite right.
He’s known that that day when our friends were having babies and abortions that I was reeling.
But he doesn’t know the extent of it.

I figured I might as well share. Part of me wishes I hadn’t.

He held me and apologized for not being able to do anything about it.
He’s a man. He thinks it’s his job to fix it.

I said, “Maybe I should be seeing someone for my depression.”

He replied, “Probably, especially now that you’re able to be medicated.”

His heart was in the right place. But that’s not what I had in mind.

 

I have a long history of mental illness. I have incredible, sometimes crippling, anxiety and I’ve been in and out of hospitals, on and off of medications, seeing various doctors and various intervals, for my rapid cycling bipolar.
Prior to finding out that I was pregnant, I was struggling. A part of me now thinks that it had something to do with the hormones. Now that they’re not here I don’t feel like I did, but I wonder if that’s just because I’ve become numb.
For the past year or so I’ve been without any medication. Okay, for the most part, but when my life is transitioning (new job, new home, new everything) I go into a pit of anxiety and panic attacks and depression and mania and “Oh, dear god why am I still alive today!”
Life is rough for us all sometimes.
I like not being medicated. For so long I was told that I would have to take medication every day for the rest of my life.
Mental illness does not just go away. But for some of us, it can be managed. I choose to do so through meditation and dietary changes. Having neither killed nor maimed myself or anyone else while being unmedicated, I can say that it is a largely effective tool for me and my mind.
So when I finally came to the conclusion that I should be seeing someone and possibly be medicated so that I could function again, it truly meant something coming from me.

But then I was pregnant.
And now I am not.

What I meant by, “Maybe I should be seeing someone for my depression.”Was really, Maybe I should have someone to talk to so that I can work through this because I’m very confused and overwhelmed. Foolishly, I even thought maybe Eric would like to join, but the grieving is different for him. He hasn’t felt it like I have. That’s fine. I didn’t expect him to.
With my mental illness, people often think that when I say I need to see a doctor, it’s so that I can be medicated so that I don’t have to try to cope on my own first. That’s not what I need. I need to work through things. I have a distinct reason for feeling the way I do, I just don’t know how to cope with it. It’s not as though there’s no clear cut reason for my lack of interest in life. I lost my child. I am allowed to grieve. I am also allowed to want to learn how to get over this as best I can. Losing someone you love does not require medical sedation. I want to feel these things, I just want to know how to most productively live with these feelings.
I’m researching local therapists today, hopefully by tomorrow I’ll be able to find someone who specializes in loss and be able to set up an appointment.

I’ve felt silly for writing so much lately, but I guess I shouldn’t.
It’s my sole outlet for all these feelings. I’m completely uncensored.
In my life, I have only my mother to really talk about these things with, but there’s still only so much I am willing to share.
This is how I cope.
When I finish my writing and hit “Publish” I no longer feel alone. I am able to release these feelings and all your comments and emails show me that I’m not the only one.And maybe it’s not just me. I know that when this all first started I looked for input. I wanted to know what to expect. But it seems there’s so few truly honest accounts of miscarriage. You can sometimes find posts about the emotional side, but not the physical. Or vice versa. I don’t know for sure, but maybe there’s other women like myself who will stumble upon this and weep and say “I am not alone.”
It’s a beautiful feeling.
Miscarriage is something you would never wish on your worst enemy.
But it’s nice to know that it’s not just you. That millions of women are experiencing what you’re experiencing. Knowing that they, and you, will live through it.

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