July 14, 2011

I feel very disjointed lately.  My mind goes through 800 unrelated thoughts every minute.  Of course, most of them are related to Max somehow.  I don’t know what to do with myself most of the time.  I have a pretty random thought process anyway, but it’s a million times worse now.  I hate feeling that way because most people would agree that I’m a pretty calm, laid-back person.  I guess maybe this is the new me.  Chaotic, impulsive, blubbering. 

I had a “Max attack” last night.  In a way, it was probably good because I haven’t had one in a while.  I could feel my emotions piling up in that part of your brain that just clicks when it becomes too full.  I went shopping for a new dress to wear to Nicole’s bachelorette party on Saturday.  I dislike shopping in general, so it’s probably not something that I should be doing right now.  I just felt like maybe I would feel happy and excited on Saturday if I had a new dress to wear.  I know that everyone is going to look so pretty and have so much fun, and I’d like to do that too.  After trying on 17,000 dresses that all made me look like a pumpkin, I found one that is beautiful and flattering and perfect.  I am trying to cut myself some slack in the body department since I just had a baby ten weeks ago, but it’s hard because I don’t have that ten-week-old baby to make it all better.  If Max were here, then it would be fine.  Looking into that beautiful, precious face would remind me why I am packing a few extra pounds, and I wouldn’t care.  But Max isn’t here, so the baby weight is yet another reminder of what is missing from my life.  It’s a reminder of the changes that my body went through to bring Max into the world.  It’s hard work to look at the body that carried him for 10 months, but only got to hold him for 37 days.  It’s a hard thing to live with, and I just can’t stand it sometimes.  It’s too much.  It’s overwhelming and shitty and really, really screwed up. 

As I drove away from Town Center last night, I just lost it.  I pulled into the parking lot at Menorah (yes, that’s how far I made it…across the street) and just cried.  I had one of those moments when the sadness and anguish are just too much to bear.  When it happens, I’m not even thinking about anything specific.  I’m just thinking about Max, and usually (this is not a pretty mental image—warning) I’m just repeating his name over and over again.  Out loud.  Cars were driving by, and I can only imagine what their occupants were thinking.  I doubt that any of them thought that I was sitting in a random parking lot grieving for my dead son though.  I called my mom, and talking to her helped me calm down so that I could actually drive home.  Scott knew what was going on, and he knew exactly what to do.  He’s amazing.  And I am amazingly lucky to have him.  Then my new friend Lori came over, and we had a good night.  We laughed and smiled and discovered more eerie connections that we have.  A future post will be dedicated to those connections. 

Now, I’m just drained.  Crying is exhausting.  Grieving is exhausting.  Right now, life is exhausting.  But, I do know that I can count on people like Scott, Lori, Nicole, and my mom (just because I didn’t refer to you by name doesn’t mean that I don’t count on you too!) to give me the energy to keep on trucking.  And I will.  (I pictured Drew Baranowski when I typed “keep on trucking.”)