trying to blog again?

I'll admit, I'm bad at this blogging thing. I've tried it before. My poor blogs always end up abandoned after a few haphazard entries.

I'm not going to say that this one's going to be different. Maybe this will be the last entry I ever make. Or maybe I'll garner hundreds of followers and end up with a book deal a la Monica of Knocked Up, Knocked Down fame. (Highly recommended if you're not easily offended)

Mostly I'm writing here because I sometimes feel the need to write and I'm trying to keep most of this stuff off of my facebook page. No one wants to be the one who causes people to roll their eyes and sigh 'not again!' Besides after a while it looks like you're just angling for attention. That's why I like blogging better. It's supposed to be all about me! It's easy to find if you just have to have your Christy fix and easy to avoid if you want.

pity vs sympathy

I'm scared to go back to work. There, I said it. I'm frightened by the anticipation of sad eyes and awkward silences. I actually feel a sick sense of anticipation for all the terribly wrong things people will say. I've had a couple of these experiences already and I'm hoarding them. My favorite is a classmate who tried to explain to me why God killed my baby. I (very gently by the way) explained my point of view. He wasn't interested and continued to argue his point. That was a good one. I can't wait until I collect one to top it. Maybe I'll write a book someday. I think things like that don't bother me so much because I understand what people are trying to say. Mostly it's, "I'm sorry. I want you to be ok." Even if the actual words end up being a 12 car pile-up.

How do I want people to react? Good question. I wish I knew. Hugs are good, sympathy is nice. Please don't go overboard and put me in the position to comfort you. Right now I don't have the reserves to give of myself to anybody.

Sometimes I'm going to be totally fine. Sometimes I'm probably going to start crying for no apparent reason. I'd like to be ignored if/when that happens. I'm doing my best to hold it together in front of other people.

I can't decide if I want to talk about Mary or not. Well, I do want to talk about her. I love her and miss her. But if we do talk about her, I'm almost guaranteed to cry. Not exactly encouraged in a professional setting. I could not talk about her and try not to think about her in order to get through the day. But that doesn't feel right either. You see, I can't feed her, burp her or change her diapers. Now that the funeral's done and her headstone has been chosen, about all I can do for my girl is to make sure that she is remembered as a real person, worthy of being loved and grieved.

The following is from Julia, posted on Glow In The Woods:

http://www.glowinthewoods.com/home/2009/5/29/balancing-act.html

And so here's my new hypothesis. I think we try to act like we have it together because we need to be seen as sane. Because in-sane people are easy to dismiss.

She's just insane with grief, can you imagine?

You can pity the insane and walk on by. It's totally allowed. You can even judge them. They are the other, not you, not one of the normals. You don't have to try her grief on in your mind. She's clearly lost it, and you would never let yourself fall apart like that. I mean, sad things happen all the time, but it's been months now. You'd think she'd be better by now, you know?

Sane people, on the other hand, need to be taken seriously. We interact with them. We're supposed to listen to what they say. Pay attention.

And so I think that some part of our need to be seen as sane is not about us. Not about our pride being hurt if we are pitied. Not about being infuriated because we are patronized with idiotic advice on how to make it all better. I think that some part of this is about the need to have our children, these little people we are grieving, be seen as profoundly cherished. Grieved by crazy people, they are invisible. Grieved by articulate sane people who are still hurting, they are suddenly important. Worthy.

I think we hold it together so that when we choose to talk about it, we are not dismissed. I think one of the things we most want others to understand is that our grief is not an overreaction, that our love for the person who died warrants the grief, that it's messy as all get out, but that the mess too is normal. Not an overreaction. Not an overreaction. NOT an overreaction.

One of the hardest things for me comprehend is just how normal life is for everyone else. My baby died inside of me. And then I gave birth to her. And the world just keeps turning, birds chirp outside, plants are reviving, spring is, well, springing. People are going to work and gassing up their cars and paying their taxes like everything is ok. How can that be?

The best expression I've found of this disconnect is Without You from the musical Rent. It's the song that resonates with me best when I'm feeling my worst.

MIMI
Without You
The Ground Thaws
The Rain Falls
The Grass Grows

Without You
The Seeds Root
The Flowers Bloom
The Children Play

The Stars Gleam
The Eagles Fly
Without You

The Earth Turns
The Sun Burns
But I Die
Without You

Without You
The Breeze Warms
The Girls Smile
The Cloud Moves

Without You
The Tides Change
The Oceans Crash

The Crowd Roars
The Days Soar
The Babies Cry
Without You

The Moon Glows
The River Flows
But I Die
Without You

ROGER
The World Revives

MIMI
Colors Renew

BOTH
But I Know Blue
Only Blue
Lonely Blue
Within Me, Blue
Without You

MIMI
Without You
The Hand Gropes
The Ear Hears
The Pulse Beats

ROGER
Without You
The Eyes Gaze
The Legs Walk
The Lungs Breathe

BOTH
The Mind Churns
The Heart Yearns
The Tears Dry
Without You

Life Goes On
But I'm Gone
Cause I Die

ROGER
Without You

MIMI
Without You

ROGER
Without You

BOTH
Without You