My Grief (A Thursday Thirteen)

This time of year is hard for me.  My father passed away suddenly, no warning, on October 10, 17 years ago. In some ways, maybe it gets easier, but in some ways, the grief remains.  Maybe I never completely processed my grief.  Whatever the case, it's a difficult time of year.  I've collected 13 images that I identify with in relation to my loss.

Link up with Thursday Thirteen here.

Subscribe in a reader

Pray for Nice

14/7, French holiday, Bastille Day, fireworks, live music, parties, family holidays.

I am sick with grief.
I would be so happy if I didn't have to hear the word "horrific" again, but is there any other way to describe it?
At least 80 dead, 18 more injured, including at least two Americans.
And it is still unclear who the perpetrator was at the time I am writing this.

I do not understand how anyone could want to kill someone else.  I just can't fathom it.  What is happening to our world?  It's become a very scary, uncertain place.
And France just keeps taking a beating, so to speak.

Oh, pray for Nice, and please pray for peace.

Subscribe in a reader

Post-surgical Depression

image credit

I had shoulder surgery a little over three weeks ago.  There was a bone spur, osteoarthritis, an impingement, and a torn bicep tendon reattachment.  I'm glad I had the surgery because, as my doctor told me, none of this would have healed on its own, and it likely would have gotten worse.  But, even though it was a necessary procedure, my whole life has been turned upside down.  I know it will heal, though it's going to take some time, and I see myself falling into depression.

I've written about all the things I can't do with only one fully functioning arm, but it's much more than that.

• I get tired easily, even though I'm not exerting much energy.
• I have to sleep in a recliner when I'm actually able to sleep because I still cannot lie flat without pain. This means that our living room is my bedroom which is the center of much activity.
• My sleep patterns are completely unpredictable.
• I feel like a burden to my family.
• Conversely, I feel like others are inconsiderate when they forget that this IS my so-called bedroom, and activity in here disturbs me.  I don;t go in their bedrooms and disturb them. 
• I need help getting out of my seat sometimes. 
• I'm gaining weight because I can't exercise,
• I cannot change shirts without help.
• I can brush my hair, but I can't style it on my own.
• I look ridiculous with my sling as someone clearly pointed out to me.
• I cannot do many of the activities that make me happy; life is extremely monotonous and boring.
• I can't take myself to doctor or physical therapy appointments which means someone has to adjust their schedule to accommodate my needs, usually my children.  My husband has to work, so he doesn't take me to appointments.
• A few people have brought us meals which my husband equates with charity, and no one wants to be anyone's charity case,
• I'm not sure how long the pain is supposed to last.
• I get numerous side effects from most pain medication so I don't take it often.
• I have crazy muscle spasms, not just in the shoulder, so I have some meds for that, but I'm not sure how well it works yet.
• I cry more often than usual.
• Not to mention other family and personal issues that I can't begin to describe here.

So... what's a gal to do?  Continue the emotional spiral downward?  I know that sadness, lack of energy and motivation, helplessness, fatigue, loneliness, a feeling of uselessness, feeling unsupported, and an I-don't-care attitude are signs of depression.  The sling comes off in a week, hopefully, but full recovery can take 6 months to a year.  Am I just going to miraculously feel better when I've recovered physically?  There is a lot of information out there about signs and symptoms and many articles confirming that post-operative depression is real (although I could name a few people who would say it's not), but there is very little about coping with it.  Again, what's a gal to do?

Humiliation

Hello humiliation, my dear friend. I can't remember when you weren't around. You're a faithful companion.

You were there when I was a little girl and their was no one to play with. I went down to my friend's house, J.A.M., and she and T were playing in her attic. I climbed up and began playing, too. I don't remember the game, but we were having such carefree fun. Until her father came along. He snuck up the attic stairs just as I was laughing at something funny, and he mimicked my laugh making me feel about three inches tall. He told me to leave, that I wasn't supposed to be up there, only you and T were allowed up there. So, I went home and cried, and you were there with me, my old friend.

Humiliation, you know you were there for me with all the incidents involving my mom. The dance studio, meeting friends' parents, pageants, school events. Those were the most significant childhood events where I remember your presence.

And do you remember the time in high school - I know there were many - but the time when I tried out for drill team officer for the second year in a row and didn't make it? You were there. You must remember consoling me in the upstairs bathroom at the townhouse.

Humi, you were there during my sorority days, too. I try to forget some of those times when I really tried hard to fit in. Immaturity and bad choices contributed, but you were the main man.

Much later, there was the time when I was sitting at the breakfast room table talking to my husband, and he told me he didn't love me anymore. Out of the blue! No warning! I know you can't forget that! I thought we had a loving marriage. You held my hand when I went back to work to deal with the heart-breaking news. And you wrapped yourself around me when I had to tell my family and co-workers that the man I was so in love with was no longer in love with me, and when I had to face the fact that the twins would have divorced parents. Sadness was there, too, but Humiliation, you didn't leave my side.

You continue to follow me throughout my days, obviously waiting for the next time that I will need you. And although you are a trusted, old friend, I pray that I can live without you because I know that someday you will leave me. Loneliness and fear of rejection have been my old friends, too, but I think I am ready to make some new friends. I'm afraid you've been my friend so long that you will not want to leave. But when you're ready to go, know that I will always remember you.

This was written for the Sunday Scribblings prompt "My Oldest Friend." Click here to see what other Sunday Scribblers are writing about.

Writing this prompt has reminded me of this song by Simon and Garfunkel.