Oct 26

The Little Things

Had a fun trip to Auburn and Montgomery yesterday. If my tone sounds sort of flat, well, it is. I guess that is what being depressed for months will do to you. I enjoyed myself, but that is a misnomer because there wasn’t really any joy. I have been keenly aware that when I am “having a good time” it’s not like it used to be. That joyful feeling is gone.

In fact, I constantly scrutinize my feelings because I am trying to figure out exactly which pieces are broken and how to fix them. The fact that I don’t feel joy, well, it’s an issue. But it’s not an issue that any therapist or drug can fix.

It is an odd thing really. For instance, I instinctively jumped to my feet, yelled, and waved a pom pom last night at the game, but there was not much feeling behind it. Ignorance is truly bliss. Once you become an observer, there is no way not to notice what is going on both inside and outside of your Self.

But alas, it was again the little things that got me yesterday. Stopping at a McDonald’s to go to the restroom…that was always our standby place to stop because they were generally clean. And as I’ve said, I rarely let Erin go in alone. Sometimes we would both use the large stall, going in together. I would wait as she washed her hands. She always used too much soap, had to have warm water, and scrubbed for way too long. I would wait with a paper towel for her, or as she blew her hands off. I can still see her plain as day in the bathroom. And that’s the problem, because every time I go in one I see her there.

I caught myself during the game, staring into space, thinking of her. I saw things I would have bought her everywhere. I wished she and Anna Kate could have played together, and I know Anna Kate did too. When we got there, she gave me a hug and a beautiful picture she had drawn of Erin as an angel. It captured her essence beautifully, and I thought it was sad that a little girl had channeled so much sadness into that drawing of her best friend. I plan to frame it, and hang it in Erin’s room.

Erin loved hotels. Just going into one makes me sad, and I’ve had to do it around 3 times now since she died. And then there was the ride home, stopping in Cullman just a few stores over from our McDonald’s. We stopped there countless times on the way to Children’s Hospital, including the last trip we made. It will forever be “our” McDonald’s, and hold memories of her.

For the last few days my feelings have been dulled, behind a wall as I mentioned in an earlier post. No, I’m not uncontrollably crying anymore but I do have to choke them back a little bit here and there. I know I’m not sleeping soundly, because I wake up feeling like my eyes are tired. I don’t know how else to describe it.

So it goes on my journey. I wonder how many other people experience exactly what I do? I know our journeys are unique, but similar. It’s exhausting really. No one wants to feel this way, but no one wants to miss their child either. I am angry because I don’t understand why mine had to die. I will never understand. Not even if she tells me in plain terms that it was her choice. That’s just how it is for a parent.

Maybe I am becoming somewhat numb because I can’t let myself feel those little things anymore. Like seeing someone hold their baby, I can’t let myself go there. I long for my own in my arms, and I don’t want to empathically feel someone else’s love for their child. When you are an empath you pick up everything, and so I pick up enough that it hurts me. On the other hand, closing my heart off won’t help either.

I’ve lost my motivation to finish this one. Blessings to all of you this afternoon.

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