I lost my voice. Not literally, speaking. I mean, my words. My written words. I was feeling my way through the grief process after losing Dad and then out of nowhere I fell into a dark well. There was no ladder to climb out of either, I just felt trapped and helpless. But lacked motivation to even cry out for help. So I sat in that well, shut down, stopped talking and waited.
I don’t really know what I was waiting for. A passerby to casually pop their head over the edge and call down to me? A sudden ability to jump out by myself? Or perhaps a morbid sense of longing for the grief to finally do what it has threatened to do for a long time – consume me entirely.
It’s a bit depressing really, but I actually feel like a Dementor. I am so deeply saddened and depressed I worry that happy people may find my presence sucks out their joy. I worry I’ll put a downer on the party, I’ll be that sad one who no one talks to – for fear of being sucked into the sadness. So, I suppose that’s one reason I’ve been avoiding people.
Another reason is that I am totally broken. The chest pains I have mentioned previously, they are almost constant now. My husband shakes me awake in the middle of the night because I choke in my sleep and have nightmares of being murdered. When I run around with the kids and feel my heart racing the pain in my chest becomes blinding and there is a constant sensation that someone has their hands squeezing my throat.
I am painting a devastating picture, it must make you think I am walking around dressed in black, crying and moaning wherever I go. You must think I don’t even smile.
Yet it is quite the opposite. On the outside I am pleasant. I am agreeable. I make jokes. I take the kids out to the arcades and play games with them. On the outside I look relatively unscathed – except the questionable weight gain/loss that keeps happening. (10 pounds on, 10 pounds off and repeat!)
I am speaking because the voice inside my head is telling me to be quiet and don’t tell. I am speaking out because I don’t want to become another statistic.
I read that it is normal to go through a period of depression after losing a parent. I didn’t expect it to be worse than Post Natal Depression. But for me, it is.
I am angry that I lost my dad when I was in my twenties. I am irritated by people who moan about their parents. I get upset when I see elderly men walking around holding hands with a grandchild. When I see people taking their family for granted I want to scream at them and tell them to stop it!
I’m drowning in sorrow. Like that horse in the Never Ending Story…
But I’ve spoken about it now. And I have an appointment booked at the doctors. There is no more power holding me back now, no shame in it.
Dad wouldn’t want me to be this sad. He wouldn’t even be touched that I loved him so much. He would just be worried and tell me to take care of myself. To carry on. Well, at the moment I can’t. This load is too painful to carry. My heart is hurting.
Breathe, snuggle the puppy and carry on.