I think my problem is, that any semblance of shock I experienced after Kaitlyn’s death, has now worn completely off. The thin layer of numbness after the loss of someone you love so very much, is like a buffer which enables you to be able to carry on some of the activities that you must do after they die. However, everyone experiences this differently. Some people, after the death of someone like this are totally incapable of doing anything at all. They can’t eat, sleep, or tend to anything. When Kaitlyn died, my world immediately fell apart. The worst thing that could ever happen is the death of one of my children, and it happened. It happened to me. It happened to my baby who I thought this could never happen to. Horrified and as grief stricken as I was, and as much as I cried, somehow I survived to do the things I must, except go back to work. This I still can’t do. I cannot function that way, I can’t even function outside this house barely and that’s been so since the beginning. So the very thin layer of insulation I did have, has completely gone and left me with the raw, open wounds of having lost someone I loved so much that I would have readily given my life for. There is no love like the love a parent has for their child, especially one that you felt so close to. And there cannot be any pain worse than losing one to death, no matter what the cause.
As I’m running out of comfort measures that make me feel better, the ones I had are no longer working, I grasp at the only thing I know how to do. I write. And my writing is desperate. Sometimes I swear off the writing, thinking that revealing so much of myself to the world cannot be good. Believe it or not, normally I am very private, and I am a quiet person. But this pain I have inside of me is so great I cannot contain it inside of me.
I still wish with all my heart that this is a nightmare I will wake up from. Unfortunately, it is not a nightmare, but a real life living hell in which I live. Losing Kaitlyn is the most horrible thing I have ever been through. Even during the times of my own depression, when I felt so hopeless and helpless (for no reason…I was just depressed), it did not compare with the excruciating pain I am going through. I still cannot believe it has happened. How could it?
So this is my problem. I write like someone gone crazy, I stop writing, I start again, I have no rhyme or reason for anything I do or say, I’m horrible to live with because I’m mad, I’m hard to talk to because I’m sad, and I can’t even stand myself. So, there’s no telling what might come out of me in my writings. You may even think I’m crazy for the things I say. But I don’t know how to handle this any other way, especially since nothing else is working.
So that’s what my problem is…..