Grief

Recovering

by Veronica on December 7, 2011

in Grief, Headfuck, My body is broken.

Apparently when you have a fortnight as crazy as I did, you get to the end of it and your mental state is fried.

Who’d have thought it?

In lieu of blogging, I’ve been spending all of my time drinking tea and reading books (Diana Gabaldan’s “Cross Stitch” series) and contemplating my lack of energy. A little bit can be attributed to depression, a lot of it was sheer exhaustion. Today is better, thanks to a psych appointment yesterday, increased sunshine and warmth and an hour planting flowers in the orchard.

Admittedly my pear tree isn’t looking great, but it’s the first year in the ground.

Isn’t my view pretty at the moment?

I got my second set of HCG results back yesterday. Sixteen. ARGH. I’m still wanting to throw up on and off, which has to be my reaction to the progesterone in my system. It’s unpleasant, regardless of what is causing it.

My mental recovery has been relatively easy. Because I’d bled from the very beginning, I wasn’t entirely convinced that my pregnancy was going to be viable. Being proved correct wasn’t what I wanted, but knowing that nearly every woman out there has gone through it makes it a little easier. Misery loves company and all that. Knowing that I wasn’t alone in things, that helped.

Thanks to our wedding gifts, we’re hopeful that we can get the toilet moved inside in the new year, which will be great. Another winter of freezing near to death in order to pee doesn’t appeal to me.

We’re down to two ducklings now. I started listing all of the things that might have happened to the other babies the other day and then went “huh. I am really not surprised.” It’s a harsh world for small bundles of yellow fluff.

I also bought myself some water colour paints. Now I’m just trying to work out if I have the energy to paint myself a pretty new header for here.

 

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Grief, stress, grumpiness and man, I am tired

by Veronica on November 17, 2011

in Grief, Headfuck, I'm getting married

I am getting married in just over a week.

I discovered today that we don’t have as many tables as I thought we ought to, seating is a bit iffy (picnic rugs anyone?) and everything is needing to be tied together. If we add in an IRL fight with someone (and I am RIGHT and you are WRONG and being an IDIOT) and a Big Thing* happening at the same time, I have my hands a little full.

Okay, they’re a lot full.

Adding to this, the entire house has been stricken with some form of ‘flu and we’re all whining at each other, while we fight for space on the couch and which DVD we want to watch.

To top it off, I appear to be getting my period. Cycle day 57 people. FIFTY FUCKING SEVEN. Tomorrow should be cycle day one. ARGH.

And the cherry on top? I dislocated my GOOD knee yesterday.

Never mind Internet, never mind. It will all be FINE, but you know. If bursting into tears while venting during a DM conversation last night is any indication, I’m a little stressed.

+++

When I was a kid, each year before my birthday, Nan would take me to a musical at the Theatre Royal. It would make up part of my birthday present and frequently we would get front row seats, which was very exciting.

One year, the musical was Les Miserables and it was a HUGE performance at the Derwent Entertainment Centre. It was even more exciting because Nan was part of the cast, singing in the choir. I spent weeks down at her house before hand, listening to her sing while she learned all of the songs.

After it finished its run, Nan gave me CD’s with the entire performance recording on them. Somewhere in a couple of house moves and a very active destructive toddler (Amy) I lost two of the CD’s.

But, for a long time, Les Miserables was my go-to music when I was stressed.

Screaming baby at 3am? Play Les Mis.

Angry at Nathan for working all night and then needing to sleep during the day (the cheek!) Play Les Mis.

Sing the songs, listen to the words and calm back down.

+++

I hadn’t listened to any of the songs from Les Miserables for years now.

Nan is dead and some things just don’t need poking.

But, I was talking to Nathan the other day and I mentioned “Lovely Ladies” as a song to make you smile, in a warped sort of way. And so I found it on Youtube, along with the entire musical score, care of someone uploading it.

And you know what?

It still works on stress. Of course, it makes me sadder now, but there is nothing like a good musical for making you feel ever so slightly better.

In a warped sort of way, anyway.

*I should be able to announce the Big Thing early next week. I’m just waiting for some things to fall into place.

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The juxtaposition of both happy and sad

by Veronica on October 27, 2011

in Cancer, Grief, Headfuck

I got some amazing news today. Throw your hat in the air and shout kind of news, run around the house squealing, tell everyone in sight kind of news.

(No, I am not pregnant.)

It was amazing news. I poked Nathan until he woke up – lazy bones was napping on the couch – and told him. I rang my parents, and spoke to my father and told him the great news. Mum wasn’t home.

I was so over the moon that I caught myself for a split second starting to dial the number for my grandmother.

And then I burst into tears because she is dead and I can’t ring and tell her. Suddenly I wasn’t so excited, I was just bone crushingly sad.

Death is hard. Death hits you at the strangest of times, when things are going well. You’ll be travelling along, and things will be just fucking perfect and then your brain will collapse in on itself and you’ll be left sobbing. Death is so final and I think that is the hardest part to live with.

I cried for an hour and then I rang my mother and we celebrated and cried together, because that is what you do.

Knowing that Nan would be excited and proud isn’t the same as ringing and speaking to her. Knowing that she would be cheering me on from the sidelines is nothing like sitting down and telling her about it. It’s just not the same.

Things are going well for me. They’re going really really well. I got another couple of businesses to sign on to Showcase Tasmania, I’ve got a few more interested and in the process of confirming and deciding and (the biggest thing I suspect) it’s finally Not Winter anymore.

I am happy. I am truly truly happy. And in the same breath, I am so terribly sad, because I am getting married in a month, my blog is doing well, things are happening for me and my grandmother is still too dead to share this with.

And that is the problem right now.

***

Ghosts and the possibility thereof aside, death is death. It’s final and I can’t change that.

I should hopefully be able to share my news with you in the next week or so. I am really excited about this, but you know, pass the tissues. I’ll cry and dance at the same time.

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So far from okay

by Veronica on September 14, 2011

in Cancer, Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, Grief, Headfuck, My body is broken.

My last few years have been … eventful. Starting with a pregnancy that didn’t look like it was going to end well, cancer, death, family fuckwits, autism x 2, early intervention, Ehlers Danlos, a falling down house, debt and depression. It hasn’t exactly been the time frame that I would hold up to the light and dissect, more the time frame that you force to the bottom of your closet, stomping on it as you go, so that you don’t have to deal with it anymore.

I signed up to participate in RUOK Day and then promptly decided that I would be better off stabbing myself in the eyes.

I am not okay. I am so far from okay, that okay is the distant shore that I left some years ago, before doctors told me that things were “all in my head” and tossed around words like anorexia and problems at home to explain why I was sick and exhausted, why I threw up every day and why my joints hurt so badly.

You tell me, how are you meant to trust the medical professionals to help out with mental issues, when mental issues are what they thought your major, genetic, connective tissue disorder was? I don’t trust them to help anymore.

I watched my grandmother die. I dealt with the fallout that rewriting a eulogy caused. I read long winded rants about myself on the Internet, written by a family member. I dealt with the trolls. I helped clean out her house, knowing that it was never going to be okay that she was dead and we were parcelling up her belongings.

I went to a doctor to discuss anxiety medication, only to be told that it would be better to sort out WHY I was anxious, rather than just medicating. You can’t cure grief by wanting it to hurt less, any more than you can make a broken bone heal faster than it does. I left with medication, that didn’t work anyway.

My son was diagnosed with autism and while it wasn’t the worst thing to happen, it was the straw that broke the camels back. Really universe? Autism and Aspergers ON TOP OF EVERYTHING ELSE? REALLY?

Fuck you.

I would like to be okay, in the same way that I would like my joints to stop dislocating and to stop vomiting all of the time. To stop having to deal with meltdowns and the assumption that I am okay, because I tell everyone I am. I would like people to notice, without having to be told, just how far from okay this whole mess is and to stop assuming that they know how they would handle it.

I would LIKE for the Pain Olympics on the Internet to stop and for people to stop negating what I am dealing with, because it could be so much worse. Sure it could be worse, but stop trying to fucking jinx me. Last time I thought that nothing else could go wrong, everything else went wrong.

And you know what? I DON’T want to talk about this. I don’t want to cry anymore, or have to talk about this, or try to explain. Writing it is hard enough. The last psych I talked to about my anxiety and grief, seemed to think that it was nothing to worry about. Obviously I downplay things, really well.

RUOK?

No. No I am not.

Now excuse me, while I get off the Internet, before I am tempted to swear anymore.

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I watched The Cove and I cried. You should watch it too. #thecove

by Veronica on August 28, 2011

in Grief, Headfuck, Soapbox

It’s like poking at a sore tooth, wanting to flip the world upside down and peer at the dark underbelly of humanity and our arrogance.

I make myself do these things because I feel I need to bear witness, and then in turn, ask other people to bear witness with me.

I watched The Cove tonight on ABC and I cried. The slaughter of dolphins in a cove in Japan, when the water turned red with blood.. Images of dolphins trying to escape and the screams of the babies as they were stabbed to death will make me cry for while yet.

Dolphins are possibly, more intelligent than humans. They are self aware and yet, we insist on killing them. Most dolphin meat isn’t sold as dolphin meat, but sold as whale meat (which: whole other issue, humans should not be killing whales either).

The dolphins that are killed are the ones rejected by the dolphin trainers. Deemed not pretty enough, or perfect enough to be sold to places like Seaworld, they are herded into the cove and slaughtered. Every single one.

If we didn’t have a market for captive dolphins, would the slaughter still continue? I don’t know.

I can’t do anything to help, except throw a little money the way of the campaign and add my voice to theirs.

I am standing up to say that this isn’t right and more steps should be taken to stop it.

You can watch The Cove on iView if you missed it. It’s available for 13 days, after that you’ll need to buy the DVD.

Have tissues handy.

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