The art of going crazy

I thought I'd be approaching the year anniversary of Chase's death with a mountain of grace and dignity because I had been on a rollercoaster of emotions that had subsided and I had gotten used to. Truth is I am about 2 1/2 months away and I do not feel any less stricken with grief than last April. I miss Chase with every ounce of my body. My heart aches as it did when he died. I can't believe he is gone some days and some days his absence chills me to the very core. I went to an antique shop today and saw a John Deer poster in the most god-awful wooden frame with two little boys peeing on the tire of an old tractor and I almost bought it. It is wierd to me how differently I look at everything; things that before Chase died I never would have looked twice at, now catch my eye and make me think of him.

I read a post this morning from Hannah's mom that I was so glad I read. She gave me a new way to think of Chase and for that I am grateful. I need things like that to hold on to...to remind me of the good things....to help give me a little bit of peace, if possible, about losing Chase. Because the grace is wearing thin. My dignity is about to jump, or be thrown, out the window...and I'm not sure I am able to stop it.

I have written about my opinion of Facebook before and even though I cut off my account, I have peaked in once or twice in the last 8 months. I don't need it, but I got bored and decided to....um....snoop. So anyway, after being disappointed (read: hurt) by some things I saw, a thought went through my mind....."if you can't beat 'em, join 'em." Right? I mean, the exact thing I despise about the application, might be just what I need. I have never posted my story about Chase on this blog because I am going through legal proceedings against my doctor. My doctor who is/was a very close friend. In a very small town. So what happened to us is the elephant in the room, or this town, if you will. It has affected my friendships. It has affected my life. And because I can never get away from it, it is starting to affect my sanity.

I have tried to hold my head high and be proud of my little angel. But maintaining a certain level of dignity has been very hard in this small town. Even before any litigation was pursued, my doctor never spoke to me after Chase died. He never checked on me medically or as a friend and I was extremely hurt by that. I was extremely upset by the events that took place, too, though so it was a very complicated time. And since it is a small town, everyone around me has moved on right before my very eyes. And as if it needed to be more pronounced, Facebook is a perfect avenue to prove that. But today I have had inklings to reappear in that world and use it to voice my frustrations. Vent, so-to-speak, outLOUD. I know it will be seen because everyone sees everything. That's what Facebook is for. That's exactly why I don't like Facebook but in this case, maybe that's what I need. An extra loud voice to be heard extra clear. Remove the elephant in the room, right? I want everyone to know what happened to me. I want them to know. ....... But am I losing my dignity by doing that? Am I lowering myself to someone else's standards? Would it make me feel better? Help....

The Facade

I am a living facade. I went out of town this weekend with a friend and her teenage daughters to run in a 5k. We had a great time. Her girls are wonderful kids and I really enjoyed the time spent with them. I enjoyed the quality time with my friend. But it was the first night I had spent away from my family since Chase died. I felt like a child....packing his blanket. I thought for a second not to take it, but I have not gone to bed without it since April 17th. I have it by my cheek every night I go to sleep. And since we were all sharing a hotel room, I thought (only for a second) about what I would look like, a healthy 37-year-old woman, sleeping with her dead child's blanket. But I took it. And I needed it. Inconspicuously, I fell asleep, my tears falling on my secret security blanket, feeling as though Chase was with me. Thinking how he should be snuggled in next to me right now, here with me on this weekend trip.

But I laugh. I smile. All the while on the inside I am sad. The guilt for showing happiness waxes and wanes. I think what I must look like: a mother who lost her baby and seems to go on like it never happened. But it doesn't bother me. Because it's not true. It's this facade. Not like the self-aclaimed FB facade. This is a real life facade. I act one way and feel completely different on the inside because of real life. My. Real. Life. I can't walk around like I'm depressed. I'm not depressed. I am a woman with a broken heart. And that broken heart is healing. Slowly. But it has left behind a hole. A hole that will never mend. And I will forever be crying inside. It will never go away.

This came from my friend Kristy's blog. I'm not sure if she wrote it or not. I saved it in my notes and found it the other day. And it is me.

Do not judge the bereaved mother. She comes in many forms.
She is breathing, but she is dying.
She may look young, but inside she has become ancient.
She smiles, but her heart sobs.
She walks, she talks, she cooks, she cleans, she works, she IS, but she IS NOT, all at once.
She is here, but part of her is elsewhere for eternity.

Thankyou to my friend and her daughters for not judging me. But for giving me a good time. And running with me. :) I needed that!