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Archives for January 2008
What’s Cookin’
Support group felt a little strange this week. I wondered if the addition of one facilitator changed the dynamics a bit. On the other hand, it could have just been the three weeks of between sessions, OR maybe it was just ME.
Part of the weirdness was due to the fact that I was there after having a good day. Yes, I had a “good” day. It was a sharp contrast to the rest of the members of the group. It had been a productive day at work where I accomplished the same amount of work in that one day as I did in all of last week. Being busy provided me with a good distraction from the feelings that usually cloud my days.
Our first exercise was to circle faces representing the different emotions we’d experienced in the day. I was done in a couple of minutes and watched the rest as they continued making circle after circle. By the time we were done I had a total of five emotions circled, while my fellow groupies had 14-21 different emotions. I was certainly the odd man out.
By the time my turn in the discussion occurred, I had more to discuss than just my day. It was the contrast of night and day that I talked about. I explained that while my day was generally good, the worst was yet to come as evenings are the hardest part of the day for me. I went on to provide an example for them, describing a night that I made soup from a can for my children’s dinner AGAIN and then ate a piece of bread. I realize that I could do worse. My kids actually love Chicken Noodle Soup. What bothers me most has less to do with my dinner short-cuts, and more to do with my lack of motivation to feed my kids properly. Providing healthy, well-balanced meals is my job! It is just so hard to cook healthy meals when I have no appetite of my own. I eat out of duty, not based on hunger. Consequently, I eat whatever is around. If we are out of something, I figure out a substitute to avoid going to the store unless absolutely necessary.
It may sound strange to you. It might even worry you. But the thing is nobody in the group was at all surprised. We’ve all been experiencing tough times. Some members in the group are years past their loss. For each, this journey is different but much of the background (inability to focus, lack of motivation, exhaustion, lack of or excessive appetite, loneliness) is similar, if not the same. I took comfort in knowing that I am not the only one. I left group and went straight to the store and didn’t leave until I had the required ingredients for three whole dinners.
I’m NOT giving up
My plan called for an easy run on Monday. My head, however, was filled with a mind-maddening mix of thoughts that needed to be purged. Only a hard run would do. I pulled on my running clothes, ponied up the little hair I have left, and was out the door. I hit the ground running, and took no time to stretch.
I ran for YaYa’s nightly murmurings of how he misses his Dad.
I ran for BoBo’s unhappiness in school and with friends that have alienated them selves from him.
I ran hard and didn’t let myself give up.
I ran as if I was able to generate the will for my boys to never quit either.
It hurts, but I will not give up.
I will keep on pushing no matter how hard it gets.
My computer
My computer has a mind of its own. I spend my time clicking and waiting for a response. Clearly my computer has been delivered to the wrong region of the US. Instead of the fast-paced Silicon Valley, surely this computer was bound for a more easy going life far, far away from here. My click-clicks are followed by a total screen freeze which keeps me from finding alternate activities to occupy my mind during the waiting periods.
My intended post for yesterday was actually about running. It was eaten up completely during one of these waiting periods. By the time I got around to rewriting it, my own cerebral computer spit out a completely different post.
In passing
Exhaustion hit hardest when I was finally forced to slow down. I retreated to the couch of the hospice waiting room, without a second thought as to who would see me lying there or what they might think. In the meantime, YaYa did his cursive homework and BoBo was in his group session. I succumbed to the silent screams of pain.
I knew that I was not alone in my suffering. On the outside, the hospice waiting room seems peaceful but, when you get quiet enough, you can hear the cries of sorrow of those seeking relief from the ongoing ache. I closed my eyes, listened, and let the thoughts come and go. I took deep breaths and let a little of the loneliness release. Then, I began to pray for my children, for myself, and for the many who are suffering a similar pain.
As I lie there, I could hear the janitor as he pushed past me with his cart of cleaning supplies. He slowed with curiosity, wondering what my story was. Why was I lying there, in the waiting room of a local hospice? Then it hit him. I could hear his cart speed up as the realization finally hit him. It was grief.