Sunday, June 7, 2015

I am an angry woman - where to write?!

Something has been noticeably amiss this week.  I have been mean and short tempered.  Angry and forgetful.  My patience is completely gone.
I am frustrated by my lack of available head space.  My short term memory loss is noticeable even to me and it makes me feel broken.  You can't be a talkative extrovert and not remember the punch line.
I am cleaning and purging in anticipation of a move.  Pissed that I have so much stuff.  Pissed that I have to go through it.  Pissed that half of the things are toys and coloring books and art supplies that are still in the wrapper because my daughter was never healthy enough to use them.  Half of them are princess related crap that I hate.
I keep reliving this very painful memory.  Isla gained so much weight with her steroids that she could barely move.  Changing her clothes was so hard for her.  She was also very warm being so big.  In the final months of her life she preferred to be naked.  She wasn't interested in much other than eating strawberry yogurt and our playtime simply didn't exist anymore.  I just fed her and carried her to the potty.  As my size increased too with Gideon, this carrying became increasingly difficult and I was moody and depressed.  One day she perked up and seem to want to play make believe.  I pretended she was the queen and that I would be her servant and go get her yogurt immediately.  When I came back up, I gave her a crown and a scepter.  She asked to see herself.  I hesitated, but liked to give her whatever she wanted in those dark days.  I turned the camera on my phone and put it in selfie mode.  Her eyes didn't light up when she saw herself. She didn't smile. I knew she couldn't recognize the girl on the screen.  She didn't know what she looked like.  We didn't have any mirrors in any of the places she was.   This was the end of our make believe that day.
I don't know what I could have done differently.  But I hate that moment.  I hate that she got that big and that she had to know it.  I hate the princess culture that suggests if you look cute with a crown than nothing else matters.  My daughter is amazing!  She endured more than most adults in her tiny life and with more grace than I could ever could imagine.  I wish she saw that.  I wish she saw herself the way I saw her.  She was beaming beauty.  And that fucking fat... she was so pudgy and overweight that her features were nearly pinched out.  I sometimes couldn't see the sparkle in her eyes.  I can feel the anguish in my gut.  It always is in the gut... like I was just sucker punched.  And then the strangest thing happens, the sadness and pain just stops, as though it doesn't run through me, but rather is just lying dormant for the moment so I can function.  Like I have some box with a lid on it in there, where all the sadness is just hanging out.  I want to vomit that badness out.  I want to remember only the good times, but there were bad times and I feel like I know too much.
I need an outlet... why do I not paint or play music?
I feel crazy... sometimes normal sometimes nauseous with grief.  I have found that I don't do too well with too much alone time with Gideon.  He is at a challenging stage and I just get so tired and frustrated... I have been filling the days with distractions.  Moving may just be another one.
This home I had with Isla was so special.  I loved it here.  But without her, it is a sad home.  So we are going to look for another home.  It won't bring her back.  But I won't have to go into a room she is missing from everyday and pick up a different baby who isn't her.  It is so weird.
I changed my job, changed my hair, will change my home... it doesn't matter... it still doesn't seem to be enough change to reflect the internal changes in my heart and it still doesn't bring her back.  I know she is okay and I will be someday, but right now it sucks.  I hate it.  I hate it.


Melissa said...

Keep writing, Glo!

t3reese said...

I hope it helps to get it out, Gloria. Wish I could be there to help you clean and organize. Thinking of you.