Funny that I typed “woe” as “wow.” Wow indeed, that I can possibly feel this much agony in a human body without being “physically sick.” I am in some sort of pain today. It built on yesterday I think, and honestly I woke up feeling pretty good compared, but then it just keeps getting worse. Is this what depressed people feel like all of the time? I cannot imagine going for too long with this feeling. No wonder the suicide rate is so high. I would hope, and maybe I’m wrong, that you can ultimately overcome your depression. But grief? How am I supposed to overcome this? I am unhappy because my daughter died. I can’t correct that. I cannot imagine being happy about it – ever.
I had a short reading yesterday with Lisa Gawlas, and among other things, she said that oddly (for her) instead of seeing imagery she heard a song. It was one I had not heard, and so I have been studying the lyrics carefully to find meaning. She also saw that it came from Erin, who was “with me” in the imagery the entire reading. The song is called Skyscraper by Demi Lovato. Now that I have told you all of that, I no longer know why I told you. But since I suppose there was a reason, the only other thing that comes to mind is that I am not sure if the “speaker” would be Erin, or me. Or maybe it’s a message for/from both of us? The lyrics are haunting for me (now), and I never thought that I would say that about a darn Demi Lovato song as I am not a fan. I wonder if Erin ever heard that song? Apparently Lisa had heard other people sing it on things like The Voice, but she had never heard Demi sing it. Anyway, interesting.
Again, no idea why I told all of you that right now, but it had an effect of getting me out of my aching heart and into my mind/head. That’s not really good grieving, but at least I feel somewhat better. For now.
I know I keep saying this, but the memories are everywhere. I got in the shower at lunch and could see Erin in my bathroom floor, after she would get out, sitting there wasting time instead of drying off. She would sit on the towels and play until I got out and made her get moving. I thought of how her Minecraft world is just sitting there without her, and how all of her online stuff would never get played with again. (Actually, I hope to maybe pass those on to someone, eventually). I wonder if anyone wonders where Puppy71 went in Minecraft? They haven’t seen her in a few months.
I thought of her now unused jackets. They are too small or I might wear them. I can’t make those into a quilt, as I don’t think they would work out. Her shoes – I can’t bear to look at her shoes. I woke up the other morning thinking of her blue winter coat that she’s had for the last two years. I wonder if she would finally grow out of this year? It was size 14. I bought them slightly too big, and her arms were long so she was wearing 14 shirts. Now why would a coat bring me such agony?
I have been told over and over, by regular people, by counselors, and by psychics and mediums, that Erin wants me to stop crying. She wants me to be happy. But I do not see how that is possible, because even if you do believe in a life after this one, being on this side is extremely hard when someone crosses over. Maybe they can see us, but we can’t see them usually. And if we could, they aren’t solid. Does that make them less? No, but it makes them inaccessible and untouchable. They say that the universe will give you what you desire if you are clear about it – that it conspires to do so. I wonder how that premise holds up to wanting your loved one back from the dead? I don’t think that one works here.
I wanted to title this “My Pity Party,” or “My Tale of Woe,” or something, but I hated to be overly dramatic so I just called it “Woe.” Still, I am having a pity party. I am really not sure what to do either. I am sad, miserable even. I’m tired of feeling this way. I want to feel better. Missing Erin makes me feel bad. You see the vicious circle I am inside here. I am the snake chasing its own tail.
Later today, I have a grief counselor appointment and also have to go pay the nursing home bill, which means I have to visit my mother. So I will arrive home either feeling better or much worse. While that sort of sounds stupid after I wrote it, the stress of the whole thing is likely to push me over the edge. If you pull up next to a blue Honda Civic with a lady boo-hooing inside, you will know it’s me.
