Such a strange feeling. The best way I can describe it is I feel detached from, well, myself. And from life in general. What a far cry from the amazing, joyful, peaceful place I was at just six weeks ago. I was talking with a friend on Saturday evening and I suddenly had the realization of, “You know, I think I might be depressed!” She agreed. I do think I’ve crossed over that threshold from “only” grief, to actually being depressed. Unmotivated or apathetic about things, not wanting to do activities or be with people like I would normally like to, decreased (or no) appetite, trouble sleeping or wanting to only sleep, etc. I can’t tell you what a relief it was to put a name to it, because now I know I can DO something about it. I’ve already reached out to my therapist and have a doctor’s appointment scheduled for later this week. So hopefully I can start soon to feel more like, well, myself.
I was explaining to that friend about how this time has felt so different than losing Kenny. Oh, there are some similarities, of course. But this has shaken me in different ways. I feel lost in different ways. The grief waves hit me differently and at different times. Whereas I never once doubted after losing Kenny that I would be OK, that I wouldn’t let the experience break me, never questioned that God was aware of me, and even though intellectually I know that those things must still be true, this time I simply haven’t been able to FEEL that. And the loneliness has felt more profound, more complete somehow. It’s been hard for me to envision my way past this.
I think there are a lot of factors playing in to everything. Yes, it’s compounded grief. I’m also still recovering from Covid and dealing with Covid fatigue. My other clinician just moved so I have needed to take over her entire client caseload along with my own. There have been some other difficult circumstances the past few weeks I have needed to navigate, that have further emphasized I didn’t have Mom here to help or support me. The hardest has been some recent medical things for my children, dealing with a concussion for one, or much more serious things (including getting feeding tubes placed next week, and likely looking at surgery) for another. There have been a lot of things with all of that that have felt heavy and scary and triggering. And then of course we’re now in my hard month of August (remember my “I Survived August” shirt from last year?), what with my anniversary next week, Kendall’s birthday, when we got the original diagnosis and our lives upended, a new school year starting…Last year that was the start of such an arduous journey through trauma work and relentless awful “anniversaries.” I don’t know what to expect this year.
So yes, I’m not OK. But I am starting to have glimmers that I may be. Eventually. My dad came over last night and was able to give me and two of my children priesthood blessings. I felt slightly less alone after that, slept a little bit better last night. Now if I could just somehow find a smile that actually reached my eyes…
