I Am Not Wonder Woman
Truly, I'm not. And it's hard to admit. I wish I was Wonder Woman. I *want* to own that mantle. It took me forever to accept the label when people first started using it. And, I think, maybe I was for a while. But, not anymore. Now? Now, I'm just broken. I don't care that I haven't showered in days. My alarm goes off, but I can't bring myself to get up. My mind tells me I need to get up and go to work, but I can't manage to convince my body. My poor husband, who is also overwhelmed with his own grief, and who doesn't get a pass on the holidays what with being a pastor, is now shouldering the burden of caring for a wife who is succumbing to her grief, and a 4-year-old who is struggling with things much too old for her, as well as the normal 4-year-old stuff. He's Superman--at least to me (I dunno--maybe he doesn't want a mantle either?). Still, somehow, he can drag himself out of bed to take care of church things--big church things like funerals, and small church things like a weekly bulletin. Me? I am forcing myself to type this in the hopes it will help me get my stuff together and get my butt back to work where I can earn money.
It doesn't help that I feel guilty because I gave in to the need to fill the hole inside me by buying "stuff," thinking I was eligible for disability pay while I recovered from my surgery. Nope. GUILT!! Phil takes Mira to daycare in the morning while I stay curled up under Patrick's frog blanket--my ever present friend since he died. GUILT!! To my credit, I made it to my mental health evaluation this week. They will have some counselor recommendations as well as any other services they think might help me next week, but in the meantime, I seem to just be sinking further down the grief hole. When the counselor asked me if I could *briefly* describe why I was there, I told her the short answer was the death of my 10-month-old son in September, but the truth is, I have been swimming upstream since 2008 and just can't seem to catch a break. Have there been moments of joy and fun? Absolutely. But, if I were to take one of those stress inventories, I imagine I would create a whole new high score. I watched as the counselor maintained her outer professional facade, while her mind tried to figure out how I was still standing. Even as we spoke, and I kept remembering other things to mention as we talked, even to me, it sounded like a joke. Like, truly, no one could possibly have to deal with all that crap in a 6-year period. Up until now, I had managed to avoid most of the addictions to which people succumb when they are finally overwhemeled (except food, of course, but that one is socially acceptable). But, the spending thing scares me.
I grew up without, so when I finally got access to a credit card, I went whole hog. By the time Phil and I married, I was 24 and $60,000 in debt, only $25,000 of which was student loans. We worked hard to get ourselves to a comfortable place--more than comfortable, really. Even though we financed it, we were able to do four rounds of IVF. Four! But two medically-needy kids and lots of time away from work to care for them blew through what we had. Friends, family, even people we don't know, have been extremely generous to us. And we were making it. We had enough to get by until my scheduled return to work. Then, I let myself "comfort buy." Please know--we're not currently in danger of losing our house. We put things on a credit card with a high interest rate that we had intended to pay off without interest, and now have to pay the interest. We're ok. For now. But if I can't reign this shopping thing back in--if I can't get my grief under control to the point where I can get back to work, we could get there. And it scares me.
So, no, I am not Wonder Woman. I am not *coping*. I am broken and falling apart. And you, my friends, my readers, my support people, you deserve to know that. Or rather, I deserve to let you know that. So, when you ask how I am, and I say "fine," know that I'm lying to you. I am not fine. In time, I may get there--I sure hope so. But, I'm not wonder woman. Not right now anyway. Hopefully, with time, meds, and counseling, I will be again. But, if I'm really lucky, life will get easier, and I won't have to be.